


There's really nothing quite so sweet as tiny little baby feet

by Merrily_Merrily



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alpha Jean-Jacques Leroy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Breast Growth, Children, Co-Parenting, Denial of Feelings, Divorce, Established Friendship, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Infidelity, JJBella, Knotting, Living Together, M/M, Male Lactation, Menstruation, Mpreg, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Pregnancy, Self-Lubrication, Separation, Sex, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Otayuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:31:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 161,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merrily_Merrily/pseuds/Merrily_Merrily
Summary: Yuri wants a baby but not another complicated relationship. JJ offers his services. Yuri must be crazy for agreeing.Or, JJ helps Yuri get pregnant and Yuri blogs about it. (Or, the way to Yuri’s heart is through his stomach, in more ways than one.)Some people marry their first love. Others live in denial with their second.





	1. Knowing Me, Knowing You

**Author's Note:**

> This is, by far, the most self-indulgent fic I’ve ever written. There’s some plot, but for the most part it’s just an excuse for me to write about Yuri and JJ and babies.
> 
> Notes about this particular omegaverse:
> 
> Omegas experience various symptoms of monthly cycles instead of the more traditional heats. So they don’t get “sex starved” and they’re definitely not incapacitated by it. (Except idk about you but cramps can be pretty awful.) Menstruation occurs during the cycle, because otherwise what happens to the fluffy uterine lining after an “empty heat”? Idk, I’m doing it this way for the sake of ease. This fic is for fun and nothing else.
> 
> Other than that, you’ll find that some other omegaverse elements are still included, such as knots, scents, a history of sexism against omegas, and a degree of self-lubrication (it’s not going to be dripping all over the place). What omega male genitalia looks like is entirely up to you. I’m not going to be extremely descriptive about that, so if you want it all in the booty, you can definitely imagine that. If you’d prefer there be a separate vaginal opening behind their male parts, that’s cool to. I’ve read both and seen corresponding diagrams, I’m just indecisive. Just be aware that boobs grow during pregnancy and babies get pushed out unless there’s a medical issue that requires a c-section (or someone elects to have one for whatever reason).
> 
> If for some reason that doesn’t appeal to you, feel free to hit the back button!
> 
>  **PS:** I don’t personally think seeing someone else when you’re separated and in the process of divorcing your spouse should be considered infidelity, because, I mean, your relationship is definitely over, but there are people who disagree on that, so I’ve used the tag. Here’s your warning for “two characters are separated and at least one of them has sex with someone else before the divorce can be finalized.”

 

 

"Knowing me, knowing you,  
There is nothing we can do;  
Knowing me, knowing you,  
We just have to face it,  
This time we're through.  
Breaking up is never easy, I know,  
But I have to go.  
Knowing me, knowing you,  
It's the best I can do."

\- ["Knowing Me, Knowing You" by ABBA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dpsn_mgEJ_w)

* * *

 

  

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home              [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)               Cats               Personal               Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **(no subject)**
> 
> POSTED ON 17 NOVEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> I’m putting off this week’s cat photo dump to issue this complaint:
> 
> So my two older sisters are pregnant, right?
> 
> Fuck them both. Fuck them and fuck their perfect lives that make me fucking sick.
> 
> My oldest sister Vera — you know the one. The annoying, happy go lucky bitch who likes to rub her boring, fairytale life into everyone’s faces? She met her husband at a party years ago. Drunk off his ass. Couldn’t even slur two words together. But he came on to her and she spent the next year swooning over him. Then of course they had the perfect marriage and the perfect home. Now they’re having the perfect baby. Everything Vera says is “the baby this” and “the baby that.” And the baby’s fine, you know? The baby never did anything wrong. Grow strong, baby! Grow strong and rule the fucking world! But it’s like Vera has to remind everyone that she’s pregnant, every second of every day, like we can’t look at her and tell. We _know_ , Vera. It’s hard to miss. You’re as fat as your husband now.
> 
> Then my other sister Lena — the hag with the irritating voice? The one who tries to shove her nose into my business all the time? The one who used to drag me to parties I didn’t want to go to and introduce me to a fuck load of obnoxious alphas I didn’t want to date? She spent years pining over her best friend. I had to listen to her bitch and moan and sigh about it, even though _everyone_ could tell her best friend spent half her fucking time pining over Lena too. _Finally_ they both got their act together, got married, and then before you know it, Lena got pregnant. One would think maybe Lena would mind her own fucking business for once and focus on her baby, but _no_. Now she’s even worse about trying to set me up with someone. We don’t live in the same fucking country anymore, but she sends me pics and links to alphas she knows on social media like “What do you think of this one? They seem nice.”
> 
> FUCK OFF LENA I DON’T CARE.
> 
> She does it because she wants me to be happy, and she doesn’t think I can be happy without “someone special” in my life. Vera does it, too, just in a different way. Vera doesn’t try to set me up with people, she just asks annoying questions. “Are you seeing anyone? How are things with Denis? Aren’t you lonely? How do you expect to meet anyone if you’re always shut away in your apartment?”
> 
> Fuck off, Vera. Maybe I don’t _want_ to meet anyone. If I wanted to date, I would be out there dating, but I’m not, because I don’t care. Dating is bullshit. I don’t have any patience for bullshit. Just because your perfect husband fell into your fucking lap at a party doesn’t mean it’s that easy for everyone.
> 
> I can’t fucking stand it. They both think my life should mirror the perfect little lives they have.
> 
> And you know what?????? Some of it might _actually_ be nice. Maybe I want part of it one day.
> 
> BUT I _DON’T_ NEED THEIR HELP, AND I _DON’T_ NEED THEM REMINDING ME THAT I DON’T HAVE WHAT I WANT YET.
> 
> Shut the fuck up about it and let me figure shit out on my own.
> 
> ANYWAY
> 
> The Internationaux de France is next week. GET READY ANGELS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Family

* * *

[A picture taken of a city skyline through the window of a hotel room. The sky looks gray. The mountains in the background are white with snow.]

**19,378 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** Goodbye again Grenoble. Thanks for the gold. #winner #grenoble

 **v-nikiforov** Congrats Yura!!!!  
**phichit+chu** Another one to add to the collection!  
**v-orlov** Humility has never been your strong suit

NOVEMBER 28

* * *

Prior experience leads Yuri to expect the Family Health and Birthing center to be a cold, severe, and clinical place.

As it turns out, it’s quite the opposite. It’s cozy, as far as medical facilities go. The main floor lobby is wide and spacious, with expansive windows through which an abundance of natural light filters in. In lieu of advertisements and medical posters, the walls are decorated with cheerful landscapes. The furniture looks clean and comfortable — either newly upholstered or well maintained. It might not have been a terrible place to wait, if waiting had been necessary.

“Yura!”

There’s a large sculpture that looks something like a bouquet of lavender rising from the center of the tiled floor. It’s lit up by soft white lights. Yuuri stands beneath it, smiling brightly as he waves a greeting. He looks tired, but not as anxious or distressed as Yuri assumed he would be.

“Where’s Viktor?” Yuri demands.

“Where do you think?” Yuuri says. “Up in his room. Where are the others?”

“Taking their fucking time.”

As if on cue, Lilia, Yakov, Kenjirou Minami, and snot-nosed Vasiliy Orlov make their way into the lobby. Yuri taps his foot impatiently and glares at their slow pace, irritable by nature but even moreso now, after a long day of multiple flights delayed by inclement weather.

“Will you _hurry up_?” Yuri snaps at them. “We don’t have all fucking day.”

Yuuri puts a settling hand on his shoulder. Yuri almost shrugs it off. He’s halfway through the motion when he forcefully aborts it, freezing with his shoulders drawn up beneath his ears. It’s Yuri’s stiff attempt at being accommodating. Even now that he can see for himself that Yuuri is not the nervous wreck he was the last time they saw one another three days ago, Yuri’s brain continues to supply him with images of Yuuri’s stricken face when he got the call in Grenoble.

“We are in a hospital,” Lilia scolds him, staring Yuri down disapprovingly. If it weren’t for her heels, she wouldn’t be able to look down her nose at him anymore. Yuri suspects she buys them higher than she used to on purpose. “For once in your life, consider your language and make an effort to conduct yourself with some class.”

Yuri scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he shuts his mouth around a snide response.

“How’s Vitya?” Yakov asks.

“Fine,” Yuuri says, and it must be true because he’s still smiling. “Come on, I can take you to him.”

They have to check in at the front desk first, where they’re each given a visitor’s sticker. Yuri has barely slapped his onto his jacket before he’s veering toward the elevator. He narrowly avoids barreling through Kenjirou, who watches with some caution as Yuri violently mashes the elevator button before prowling impatiently back and forth while he waits for it to descend. Lilia continues to look reproving while Yuuri appears faintly amused.

“Don’t worry so much,” Yuuri says. “Everything’s as well as can be.”

Old habits lead Yuri to argue, “I’m not worried.”

“Yes, you are,” Kenjirou counters.

At least he has the grace to look appropriately admonished when Yuri glares at him.

Vasiliy Orlov, on the other hand, looks far too cheery while he struts toward the elevator, as if he takes pleasure in Yuri’s foul mood. To Yuuri, he grins and says, “He’s been snapping at everyone since you left Grenoble. He even made one of the flight attendants cry.”

Yuri wants to wring the kid’s neck. His fingers form a tense curl when he imagines it, but he tells himself it’s worth neither the effort nor the scolding he’d get if he tried. He’s too old to be letting a stuck up eighteen-year-old alpha brat like Vasiliy Orlov get under his skin, even if nothing would give him more pleasure in that moment than to kick Vasiliy down a peg. When age finally tempers Vasiliy’s cheerful arrogance, perhaps he will no longer be quite so insufferable; for now, he is little more than an annoyance, prancing around with even more self-importance than having Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov as his coaches should allow.

Yuuri chuckles quietly. It seems out of place under the circumstances, but it eases Yuri’s temper by a fraction. The fact that Yuuri can laugh at all must mean he’s not lying when he claims that everything is fine. Still, Yuri refuses to accept it until he sees for himself. He didn't spend the last days of the Internationaux de France in a state of constant anxiety just to let go of it without visible proof.

Yuri stomps into the elevator when the doors open. He lurks in one corner and lets Yuuri press the button for the correct floor only because he doesn’t know where to go from here. The others give Yuri his space, too well acquainted with his temper to give it much more attention. Vasiliy looks like he might want to tease again, but Kenjirou, twenty centimeters shorter and significantly more slender, manages to shove Vasiliy into the opposite corner before he can try.

It’s a short trip up, but Yuri’s impatient enough that two floors feels like it takes an eternity. He shoulders Kenjirou out of the way when they arrive, then stares around to get his bearings. They’ve come to another lobby. Yuri has to wait for the others to file out of the elevator before Yuuri can continue to lead the way.

They go through a pair of double doors, then down a long, quiet hallway lined with empty rooms. If Yuri was expecting anything from this place, it wasn’t silence or seclusion. The atmosphere might be calm and comforting to others, but Yuri finds it somewhat eerie. Where are the bustling doctors? The anxious parents? The screaming infants?

There’s a reception desk on the left hand side halfway down the hall. Yuri counts three nurses behind it, all of them chatting as they go about their work at a leisurely pace. Either they’re all betas, or the strong, hospital grade blockers they use mask their scents so they’re virtually indistinguishable from one another. They call out a cheerful greeting when Yuuri passes, which Yuuri returns in his naturally friendly way before leading Yuri, Yakov, Lilia, Kenjirou, and Vasiliy to a closed door on the right side of the hall.

He barely has it open before Yuri’s barreling into the room.

“Yura!” is the chipper greeting he receives.

There Viktor is, with his bright eyes and his animated smile, sitting up in a hospital bed while an old rerun of some short-lived reality show plays on a television mounted on the opposite wall. He’s clearly made himself at home. A pair of fluffy slippers peaks out from beneath the bed. There are fashion magazines scattered all over the room, along with a couple of sweaters, and blankets Yuri recognizes from Yuuri and Viktor’s apartment. The room is clean otherwise, spotless in a way Yuri would expect from a hospital, though it doesn’t smell sterile. Rather, it smells no different than if Yuri were to walk into Yuuri and Viktor’s living room — their mingled scents not overpowering, but soft and relaxed.

Some of the pillows tucked behind Viktor’s back don’t look like they’re hospital issue. Viktor’s not even wearing a hospital gown, but a pair of striped lounge pants, a faded t-shirt from the 2014 Sochi Olympics, and a silk robe. The only thing to denote his role as a patient are a few hospital bracelets on his wrist. Yuuri’s mother is there, too, beaming while she fusses over Viktor. She sets out food for him on a miniature table attached to one side of the bed.

It’s a remarkably calm scene, completely at odds with the drama that accompanied Yuuri’s early departure from France.

Lilia, Yakov, Kenjirou, and Vasiliy troop into the room behind Yuri. They all exchange their own greetings, but Yuri speaks over them and demands, “What happened?”

Viktor answers easily enough. “You already know what happened.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Yuri argues.

Viktor sighs like he finds Yuri’s attitude to be a bit tedious. “I came in for my appointment on Friday afternoon. Karina’s heart rate was too low, so they performed an emergency c-section.”

“And you didn’t notice that something was wrong beforehand? Didn’t she stop moving?”

Lilia tuts at him. Yakov says “ _Yura_ …” with a warning in his voice. Yuri ignores them both and stares Viktor down. He knows he sounds unfairly accusing, but he’s been stressed out for three days, and he doesn’t understand how everyone else can possibly be so _calm_.

Viktor’s smile drops. His eyes lose some of their brightness. Something in his expression looks haunted all of a sudden. If Yuri could force his unease aside, he might feel guilty for causing it. As it is, that shaken look is the only thing about this situation that Yuri thinks makes any sense. It’s more appropriate than the smiles and the laughter. Viktor _should_ be upset, because it’s seven weeks before Karina’s due date, and Vikor was alone.

A hand settles on Yuri’s shoulder again, more firmly than when they were down in the lobby. Yuri startles out of his indignant glare and glances at Yuuri. Yuuri’s eyes haven’t lost any of their warmth, and his smile is still intact, but it’s starting to look a bit strained now.

“Let’s go see Karina,” he says. “Just you and me.”

Yuri almost refuses. They’ve just arrived and he hasn’t finished interrogating Viktor yet. There are still questions he’d like to ask, namely “Was it something you did?” and “Did it cause any damage?” But when he spares a look at the others, Yuri sees nothing but disapproval being directed his way. Yakov and Lilia are both frowning at him severely; Yuri’s certain he’ll get a rant about his insensitivity from them later. Kenjirou looks to be at a loss, and Vasiliy’s amusement has finally given way to something that looks like irritation or defensiveness. Even Yuuri’s mother appears a bit sad and disappointed, and she doesn’t even understand much Russian.

In the end, Yuri relents and allows himself to be steered out of the room. Yuuri shuts the door behind them and leads him passed the reception desk again, down another short hallway to a second set of double doors that open at the press of a button along the wall. Yuri follows quietly, convinced he’s about to receive a lecture — an uncommon move on Yuuri’s part, but it wouldn’t be totally out of place, given the situation.

Through the doors is the Special Care Nursery. Immediately to their right are two sinks, which Yuuri quietly directs Yuri over to. Yuri removes his jacket to push up his shirt sleeves. He copies Yuuri’s meticulous scrub down of his hands and arms, glancing over what he can see of the hall as he does so. There are two dimly lit rooms in the immediate vicinity, each closed off by a sliding glass door. Yuri can see medical equipment, a couple of comfortable armchairs, and an incubator in each room.

Once they’ve dried off, Yuuri takes him further down the hall, where there are more rooms lining one side, and another reception desk manned by more scentless nurses. Yuuri stops in front of the room marked “5” and carefully slides the door open. Yuri follows him in. He drops his jacket onto one of the armchairs before approaching the incubator.

There is Karina.

A chart on the wall lists her weight and length: 1.89kg and 43cm.

She’s bigger than Yuri thought she would be. Lengthwise, she looks close enough to full term, but she weighs notably less than she would have on her due date. Her limbs are spindly, with long fingers and toes — all accounted for, he makes sure. She wears only the tiniest diaper Yuri’s ever seen, a single hospital bracelet, and a knitted cap on her head, which has twisted out of place enough to expose a few thin wisps of dark hair. Much of her face is obscured by tubes and wires, but her eyes, even closed in sleep, remind him of Yuuri.

“You can touch her if you want,” Yuuri says.

There are two circular openings on each side of the incubator. Carefully, Yuuri opens one and lets Yuri slip a hand inside. Yuri keeps his touch gentle, stroking one of Karina’s palms with his thumb. Her skin is warm, and the softest he’s ever felt.

“Hi, Karinka,” he whispers to her.

She doesn’t move or make a sound. Almost obsessively, Yuri watches the steady rise and fall of her chest.

“Can I hold her?” he asks.

“Not yet,” Yuuri says. “Viktor hasn’t even held her yet.”

It’s hard to tell by the quiet tone of Yuuri’s voice if the comment is meant to be chastening or not, but it works all the same. Guilt settles heavy on Yuri’s shoulders. He breathes deeply through it, trailing the pad of his thumb down the length of each of Karina’s fingers.

Before it can get stuck in his throat, Yuri forces an apology out on a whisper. “Sorry...”

“I know Viktor seems like he’s okay,” Yuuri continues, “and he is now, for the most part, but this was really hard for him.”

“I know,” Yuri says. “That’s why it’s so frustrating when he acts like nothing’s wrong.”

Yuri knows he would not be able to smile in Viktor’s place. Independent though Yuri is by nature, he would have been afraid. Just the thought of it is unsettling — whisked off to an emergency surgery with no one there for support. Even Viktor, chipper though he might seem, must have been distraught. Viktor was so excited for Karina, so happy to finally start a family with Yuuri, so uncharacteristically careful during his pregnancy, it must have been a shock to come in expecting that things were normal, only to find out that wasn’t the case at all.

And then to not even be able to hold her…

That thought hurts in a way Yuri is unaccustomed to — his instincts being somewhat less distinct than Viktor’s have grown.

“They couldn’t find her heartbeat at all at first,” Yuuri says. “No one was here with him. By the time Georgi got here, the c-section was already over.”

It could be another reprimand in disguise, or simply Yuuri’s attempt to come to terms with all that happened in his absence. Whatever the case, Yuri’s stomach twists uncomfortably, and his grip tightens ever so gently around Karina’s tiny hand.

He turns his head just enough to glance at Yuuri. There’s a hint of sadness in Yuuri’s face now — an emptiness to his eyes, which are usually so warm and expressive. Yuuri’s scent doesn’t fluctuate as much as it used to years ago, when he was less skilled at managing his anxiety. Any changes are therefore harder to pick up these days unless Yuri’s paying close attention. The smell of him is melancholy now. Knowing Yuuri as well as he does, Yuri expects he’s beating himself inside. He probably feels heartbroken, that he wasn’t here for Viktor, or for Karina. All those old inadequacies that plagued him in the past must be haunting him again.

Yuri does what he can to offer comfort. He won’t hug Yuuri — not right now — but he makes an effort to squash his guilt and his uncertainty, so that his scent might come across in a more soothing manner.

“You made a pretty baby,” he says, looking back through the incubator.

There’s a smile in Yuuri’s voice when he replies, “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says. He nudges the side of Yuuri’s foot with his own and jokes, “You can father my children if you want.”

Yuuri’s resulting laugh is soft, but filled with amusement. “I’m flattered, but no.”

“All you have to do is donate your sperm.”

“I don’t think Viktor would be too happy about that.”

Yuri scoffs. “Viktor can learn to share.”

“Can Otabek?” Yuuri asks, voice light and teasing.

The momentary silence that follows is a little tense and awkward.

Under any other circumstance, Yuri might have been able to stifle his reaction to the comment. He’s had enough practice over the years, with how often it comes up. Yuuri and Viktor are frequent commentators. Mila makes her own observations, too — little teasing remarks Yuri’s learned to ignore. Yakov and Lilia never say much, nor does Dedushka or Otabek’s family, but the expectation is there. Yuri feels it with every knowing glance. Otabek’s mother looks at Yuri with hope in her eyes every time he visits Almaty, like she expects he’ll be the one to finally give Otabek’s aimless love life some direction.

He won’t be. Yuri can admit that to himself. Disabusing others of the notion has been more of a challenge.

Yuri feels caught off guard by the topic now. He’s been understandably distracted from his own issues these last few days. Being shoved back into them feels like too much all at once. He doesn’t want to think about any of it, when his focus should be on Karina and Viktor.

“We’re not like that,” Yuri argues.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Yuuri glancing at him. Whether it’s in surprise or disbelief doesn’t come across.

“No?” Yuuri says.

Yuri shakes his head — a short, jerky movement meant to ward off any further conversation.

Yuuri’s voice grows a little softer when he says, “Always seemed that way to me.”

Yuri doesn’t answer. He never knows what’s worse — that it still seems that way to other people, or that it once seemed that way to him, too.

He inhales deeply and lets it out on a slow sigh, determined to hold the bitterness and the disappointment in, though keeping his scent neutral becomes something of a struggle.

In the incubator, Karina’s thin fingers curl around Yuri’s thumb.

* * *

[A short video of Viktor holding Karina against his chest. Some of the larger tubes have been removed, but a thin feeding tube trails into her nose. Every few seconds, she lets out a sudden, short, high-pitched squeak.]

**48,219 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** The cutest hiccups. With @v-nikiforov #babyviktuuri #cute #babyhiccups

 **+guanghongji+** So tiny!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** Yay Karina!!! Getting stronger every day!!!  
**christophe-gc** Elias can’t wait to meet her!

NOVEMBER 30

* * *

For a majority of his life, short though it’s been so far, Yuri has not been particularly fond of children.

As a young boy, he hated other children his age. He felt out of touch from the rest of them. He didn’t care for their teasing, or for any of their stupid games. He wanted to skate, and that meant sacrificing a social life. None of the other children were as serious or as dedicated as he was. None of them had the same natural talent either, and the younger ones who idolized him always annoyed him. They got in the way. They were a distraction. He didn’t have any use for their company.

Occasionally, as he grew, Yuri considered that his views might change in time. He thought that, because he had good instincts in other areas of his life, the ones associated with his second gender might develop and come into play when the time was right — and if they didn’t, so be it. When nothing significant changed after his cycles began at the age of thirteen, he wasn’t troubled by it at all. It didn’t matter. Neither sex nor romance seemed like things that might benefit his skating anyway, so Yuri continued to judge them a waste of his time.

Children were still a nuisance then. The longer Yuri focused on his career, the less he could foresee a circumstance in which he might care to explore the idea of motherhood.

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

He revised his opinion later, with Otabek — when their friends began to retire one by one, and Yuri had more of a reason to consider what he wanted from life after competing.

“As far as babies go, yes.”

Otabek doesn’t look impressed. Maybe there’s a hint of amusement in his voice, but it lacks the eagerness Yuri would expect to see in others. He watches Otabek on the computer screen, making a careful study of Otabek’s face as Otabek scrolls through the series of pictures Yuri just sent to his phone.

Otabek’s expressions are rarely very pronounced to begin with. Sometimes there might be an unusual brightness to his eyes, or a subtle change to the curve of his mouth, but those reactions are typically reserved for skating and music. Yuri doesn’t see much of it now. Otabek’s level of interest is mild at best, and what fondness he expresses comes across distantly. There’s nothing to imply a deep emotional investment in the topic. Otabek thumbs through the pictures quickly. He doesn’t linger long on any of them.

“I got to hold her today,” Yuri says.

“How was that?” Otabek asks.

“Sort of weird. Sometimes it didn’t even feel like I was holding anything. She only weighs half as much as Pavel and Lidiya did.”

Otabek snorts. “Viktor will never forgive you if you drop his baby.”

Yuri can pinpoint it exactly — the moment he first imagined children as a part of his future.

It was May, and he was eighteen years old. Otabek was staying in Saint Petersburg for part of the summer, when Georgi’s wife Nadya had their first child. When Yuri and Otabek joined the others for a hospital visit, Viktor would not shut up until he got a picture of Yuri holding Pavel. At the time, Yuri resented the pressure. He was not like Viktor, who, in the wake of his retirement, latched onto the idea of starting a family as if it had been his life’s purpose all along.

So Yuri held Pavel, and it was as awkward as he anticipated. He felt cumbersome. Even sitting in a chair, he was sure he’d drop Pavel if either of them moved at all. It was the first time in his life he ever held a baby. Pavel yawned and squirmed. One of his arms slipped out of the swaddling blanket.

Otabek laughed quietly. He made fun of the clumsy way Yuri sat, and the awkward hold he had on the baby. He snorted at the look of alarm on Yuri’s face every time Pavel shifted. “Don’t drop him,” he said, trying to psych Yuri out. He teased Yuri while Viktor took pictures, told him he looked ridiculous holding a baby in his ripped jeans and tacky leopard print.

Yuri glared at him, but it didn’t look threatening with his loose hair hanging in his face, and he was too afraid to move either of his arms long enough to push it back. When Otabek drew closer to tuck it behind Yuri’s ears, Yuri had every intention of swearing at him and kicking Otabek’s leg. He had several rude names right at the tip of his tongue.

But something about Otabek’s laughter touched Yuri in a way it never had before, and he couldn’t do it. All he could focus on was how dark Otabek’s eyes were, how warm he looked when he was amused.

“You’re an asshole,” Yuri complains now, but it’s halfhearted at best. “I’m not going to drop her.”

When he looks into Otabek’s eyes through the computer, Yuri thinks of Pavel — four years old and so proud of himself every time he goes out onto the ice. He thinks of Pavel’s big smiles, his dramatic tantrums, his fondness for his little sister Lidiya, with her sweet voice and her bright eyes, clapping from the sidelines as Pavel grows accustomed to the ice.

And he thinks of Karina at the hospital in her incubator, so tiny and helpless, gripping onto Yuri’s finger when he strokes her palm.

“Do you ever think about it?” Yuri asks, against his better judgement, when Otabek sets his phone aside.

“About what? Kids?”

“Mmm.”

Otabek snorts again. “Enough to know I don’t want one.”

Yuri struggles to keep the disappointment off of his face even though he expected the answer. He turns away from the computer and shuffles around on his bed like he’s trying to get more comfortable. When he’s stretched out on his stomach with his arms pillowing his chin, Yuri tilts his laptop screen to a better angle.

Otabek has a dour frown on his face when Yuri looks at him again.

“What are you so moody for?” Otabek asks.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I’m not moody.”

“That’s your moody pose.”

“Fuck off, I don’t have a moody pose,” Yuri grumbles.

“You have several,” Otabek counters. The line of his mouth straightens out to match the flat tone of his voice.

Yuri releases a heavy breath that blows some of the hair out of his face. He drops his gaze to his keyboard so he doesn’t have to look at Otabek. “I’m just thinking about what I want to do when I retire.”

“And what’s that?” Otabek says, slow and cautious.

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t know. Choreograph, probably. It’s just… everyone else already has it all figured out, you know? Georgi’s coaching. Chris is coaching. Viktor and Katsudon are coaching. Mila’s fucked off to Italy with Sara. You’ve got your music.”

Hesitantly, Yuri glances up to check Otabek’s expression, but the neutral look on his face makes him seem more aloof than before, so Yuri lowers his gaze again and picks at the ratty cuff of his old hoodie.

For a long time, the future was a topic Yuri would prefer to put off for as long as possible. He didn’t like to think of it as a teenager, when he was desperate for recognition and had no time to focus on anything that wasn’t the next competition. He didn’t like to think of it as a very young adult, when Georgi, Viktor, and Yuuri retired one after the other, and Yuri realized he had no clue what he’d like to do when his competitive days inevitably came to an end.

Then Pavel came along, and this thing with Otabek changed, and the future suddenly didn’t seem so daunting when Yuri imagined a surly little boy with Otabek’s dark hair and eyes.

But he knows Otabek.

He knows all of Otabek’s habits — how he doesn’t like to wear slippers indoors even though most of his socks have holes in them; how he doesn’t give a damn about the way he looks but still puts time into making himself presentable in the mornings; how he would sneak a cigarette or two when he was out with his friends and pretend to feel guilty about it, but never really was, because he’s smoked in earnest since retiring; how he loves riding his motorcycle but hates driving a car; how he falls asleep midway through every movie they watch together unless they see it in a theater; how he drums on random surfaces with his thumbs when he’s feeling restless, whether it’s a bench or a table, or the boards around the rink; how he won’t dance unless he has a few drinks in him first; how he grumbles about shitty weather but secretly enjoys walking through the rain.

Yuri knows how Otabek kisses, and how Otabek fucks — hard and aggressive, but somehow lacking in sentiment. He knows how Otabek enjoys conversation but hates flirting. If Otabek ever finds himself in a romantic situation, it’s more by accident than by design. Yuri knows when Otabek wants someone, how dark and intense his eyes get, because Yuri’s had those eyes on him, and he’s seen those eyes when they’ve been directed at other people. He knows that Otabek likes them pale, willowy, and wild, and that coy behavior fails to hold his attention for long.

Most of all, Yuri knows what their relationship is, and what it is not. He knows they’re not dating, that they never have, because they agreed on that years ago, when neither of them were particularly enthusiastic about the idea of a long-distance relationship. They were both dedicated to their careers first and foremost. They traveled too much, and saw one another too infrequently. Exclusivity seemed impractical.

In spite of that, there’s a part of Yuri, a part he thinks has always been there, that assumed their relationship would evolve one day. For a while, it seemed like fate — their careers would end, they’d both put their wild youths behind them, and they’d settle down like Viktor and Yuuri. Yuri thought it made perfect sense. It still makes sense, to a degree. He can’t help but think that they’d be good together. Secretly, he’s carried that fantasy in the back of his mind since the first time he held Pavel, when he looked into Otabek’s eyes and thought, “I could be happy with him.”

But he _knows_ Otabek.

Otabek doesn’t want any of that.

“You’ve still got a few years left in you,” Otabek says.

“Yeah, but maybe I don’t want to spend every one of those years skating,” Yuri argues. “Maybe I’m ready for everything that comes after.”

“And what comes after?” Otabek asks, still in that slow, careful way that means he already knows he’s not going to like the answer.

Yuri continues to stare at his keyboard and rants, “Half of our friends have retired. Viktor and Katsudon. Georgi. Chris. Mickey and Sara. Phichit. Seung-gil. _You_. Which, okay, cool, fine. Be a DJ full time. You’re good. Live your dreams and all that shit. But then Guang Hong gets knocked up. _Mila_ gets knocked up. They’re probably not going to make a comeback. Leo, Emil, and Ken will retire in the next couple of years. JJ went on hiatus, and even with him back now, it’s not the same. Everyone is married. Or they’re engaged. Except Chris, but is it really a big fucking surprise to anyone that he’s getting divorced already? The point is, almost everyone’s settled down. They have new careers or kids or _both_ , and I’m just here doing the same shit I’ve always done, except I’m so fucking _tired of it_.”

“You shouldn’t feel pressured to follow their example,” Otabek tells him.

“I _don’t_ ,” Yuri snaps.

That’s not it.

He doesn’t _feel_ any pressure. At least, not the way Otabek assumes. No one has guilted Yuri into it. He hasn’t been burdened by expectation. There’s a sense of urgency, one he feels quite strongly at times, but he wouldn’t say it’s been forced upon him.

Sure, he’s gotten the teasing remarks from several people, and he’s resented them all for it. It doesn’t matter if the comments come from friends, family, or strangers — they’re always unwelcome. Even in this day and age, there seems to be the expectation that, because he is an omega, he will one day want to be married with children. If not now, then later. “When you’re older,” they say. “When you’re done competing,” or, “When you find _The One_.”

Yuri ignores them, and when he can’t ignore them, he tells them exactly where they can fuck off to. Other people might have different experiences, but Yuri has been considering the subject long enough now that he knows any desire he has for moving on to another stage in his life has very little to do with the fact that he is an omega. In fact, he’d argue that has _nothing_ to do with it.

And if what they say _is_ true to some extent — if he’s been changed in some way by time and maturity, or by watching his friends retire, or by how much he’s considered this _thing_ with Otabek — none of that is a result of him being an omega.

It’s a result of growing up, of learning who he is and what he wants based on all of the experiences he’s had in life. It wasn’t anything that could be predicted. Not by him, and certainly not by anyone else. The outcome was never set in stone. A different set of experiences could have led him to a different answer.

He still doesn’t even care for some of it. Opinionated though he is, marriage is a subject Yuri could go either way on. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, he won’t be disappointed. He doesn’t need a ceremony or a fancy party to be satisfied. All of that seems needlessly complicated. Even with Otabek, that was never an outcome Yuri aspired to. He’s not strictly against the idea; it’s simply never seemed like a necessity.

But a baby…

That’s different, somehow. The thought of that never happening, when he can imagine it so clearly, makes Yuri’s chest ache in a way he doesn’t know how to explain.

It’s so fucking stupid, and he hates it sometimes — how fierce that desire has become.

Yuri’s eyes flick up again. Otabek continues to stare at him from the computer screen. He looks somber, like he knows what Yuri wants without Yuri having to say a single word, and he knows, too, how drastically it would change things between them.

“Is it really so fucking bad for me to look at Karina and say, hey, I actually kind of want that?” Yuri asks.

“Of course not,” Otabek says. “I just think you should take the time to consider whether or not you want it for the right reasons.”

“And what are the right reasons?”

“Because you like kids and you want a family, not because everyone else is doing it.”

“I don’t want it because everyone else is doing it,” Yuri argues. “I want it because I like being with Pavel and Lidiya and Karina. Watching everyone else move on just makes me think about it more, because I know I could do it, too.”

Otabek falls silent for a moment. He seems to be at a loss, studying Yuri with something like sadness in his eyes. Finally, he says, “You’re young. You still have time to—”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about how I should focus on my career and wait until I’m older,” Yuri cuts him off. “I’ve _been_ focusing on my career, Beka. This has been my life since I was a child.”

If he’d chosen another path, maybe his relative youth would be more of a deterrent. Maybe he would feel compelled to consider his age more than he has, and ultimately think himself too young for it. He certainly would be, if his circumstances were different. If Yuri’s life mirrored that of one of his peers, he would have completed university this year. He would be at the start of a career instead of nearing the end of it. Chances are, he wouldn’t be well established. He wouldn’t have the means to support himself, or Dedushka, or anyone else who might come into the picture.

Growing up the way he has places Yuri at a different stage in his life. The experiences his peers are only now acquiring were a part of his story long ago. He’s been supporting himself and Dedushka since he was a novice skater. Talent brought him government funding, and success brought him sponsorships and endorsement deals, which then brought him stability. He grew up fast because he had no other choice, because he had obligations and responsibilities he had to meet if he wanted to keep competing — if he wanted to _survive_. The thought of taking things slow now, simply because other people think he should, frustrates the part of him that’s already come to a decision.

He doesn’t know what to say to explain himself. Yuri has never had a way with words. He knows what he wants when he wants it, but the hows and the whys tend to seem too complicated for him to adequately express. Maybe if he stares long enough, Otabek will read something in his eyes and Yuri won’t have to struggle to articulate it. Maybe he can _will_ Otabek to understand.

So Yuri stares at him through the screen — at his dark, solemn eyes and the scowling frown on his face. Even over the distance, Yuri can feel the tension between them. He suddenly wishes they could have had this conversation in person. Skype is far too impersonal. Yet Yuri knows he wouldn’t be able to stomach putting it off much longer. It’s been there between them for years. Yuri is tired of ignoring it. He’s an impatient person by nature. Continuing to pretend that nothing has changed might be easier in the long run, but in this, it's beyond his capabilities.

He watches Otabek take a deep breath like he’s gearing up to respond, but something interrupts him right when his lips part around a quiet, “Yura…”

There’s a muffled sound on Otabek’s end, barely discernable through the speakers. Otabek’s expression grows hesitant and guarded. His eyes flick off to the side, in the direction of his bedroom door. It takes Otabek’s cautious answer of “Yeah?” for Yuri to realize someone must have knocked on it.

Another voice pipes up in the background, speaking to Otabek in English. “Are we still going out?”

Otabek spares a quick glance back at Yuri — not nervous, but obviously wary. “Yeah, give me a few more minutes.”

“Sorry,” the other voice says. “I didn’t know you were still talking to someone.”

It’s a woman, but Yuri finds that he’s incapable of identifying her by voice alone, even if the tone and accent are familiar. He should know her. He’s sure he’s heard that voice before. Not recently, but certainly within the last couple of years. Something about it irritates him to the point of suspicion. It fires up his defenses, puts him on his guard and readies him for a fight.

“Who’s that?” he asks in Russian.

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than the answer comes to him on it’s own. Yuri’s memories shift around in his head until the pieces fall into place. For a split second, he has to wonder how he could have forgotten.

Then Isabella Yang pops into view behind Otabek.

“Oh, it’s you,” she says — and just like that, the conversation is completely derailed.

How long has it been? Two years, at least?

Yes, two years since he last saw her in person. She despised him then; Yuri made sure of that, though it meant the 2020 Grand Prix Final in Berlin turned into an epic shitshow. He already loathed her before it — her voice, her face, her simpering behavior, that smug smirk she wore when she mocked him, always curling into JJ’s side like a self-important fangirl, wanting to be seen and heard, with a proprietary hand on JJ’s chest to stake a claim that was never really challenged in the first place.

She looks different now, with her dark hair styled in a pixie cut. The red lipstick is the same, at least. The nails, too, but those don’t look as impeccable as they used to. The polish is chipped, and the nails themselves are trimmed short. Her face seems fuller. It could be the result of her shorter hairstyle, but Yuri chooses to assume she’s carrying a bit of extra weight these days.

It would make sense. She was pregnant not long ago.

Isabella leans over Otabek’s shoulder as she peers at the computer screen, slipping her arms around his neck from behind to steady herself. Aggravation bubbles hot in Yuri’s gut. She must see it on his face, because a shadow of her old smirk twitches onto her lips.

Yuri glares at Otabek. “What the fuck is she doing there?”

Otabek’s expression goes flat again. He obviously isn’t thrilled to be caught in the middle like this, but Yuri notes that he doesn’t encourage Isabella to back off.

“She’s staying for a while,” Otabek answers in English instead of Russian.

The quirk of Isabella’s mouth looks snide. “Is that a problem?”

She wants to rile Yuri up. She always has, even now that they’re all adults and the petty confrontations have become tiresome.

It was little more than juvenile teasing back when it began, years ago when Yuri was young and new to the Senior Division, and even more temperamental than he is now. Isabella taunted the Yuri’s Angels at competitions. She taunted Yuri whenever their crossed paths, smiled and looked down her nose at him while she nestled against her husband, where she put on an innocent act no one believed. One could make the argument that she did it in good fun. In the beginning, she didn’t sound callous, merely amused by Yuri’s attitude.

That changed at some point. Yuri doesn't remember when, nor is he entirely sure why, but he blames Isabella for it all the same. The childish pestering began because of her, and it gave way to outright contempt because she kept pushing him long after it stopped humoring anyone. All of Yuri’s other feuds puttered into nothing when age and experience mellowed him out, but something kept the conflict with Isabella going. Her sarcastic jokes became heated insults, and Yuri’s petulant defensiveness became vicious hostility.

He despises her for treating him like a child, and she despises him for some perceived slight Yuri can’t even be sure actually occurred — and because, before their paths stopped crossing, he took the time to learn her weaknesses, and he felt no remorse when it came to exploiting them. Their confrontations grew explosive. They provoked one another. They insulted one another. They screamed at one another across hotel lobbies, in the middle of clubs and formal event venues. In every conversation, they took opposing views out of spite. That they often had an audience didn’t matter. On more than one occasion, Yuri would have gone for blood, but Isabella wasn’t worth being fined or suspended, or worse.

She drapes herself against Otabek now, like she’s always done with JJ, only she doesn’t bother feigning innocence. She loops her arms around him from behind and grins close to his face. Otabek’s frown darkens, but he doesn’t shrug her off.

Yuri swallows down his objections. Isabella might have proximity to her advantage, but Yuri already has the upper hand.

He smirks. In as sweet a voice as he can manage, he says, “Is your husband there too? I haven’t seen him since the Cup of China a few weeks ago. I’m surprised you weren’t with him.”

Isabella falters. For a fleeting moment, something like hurt glimmers in her eyes, but it fades quickly and her glower turns menacing.

“ _Yura_ …” Otabek says, in a voice gone ominously low.

Yuri snorts and says, “Fuck off, she can take care of herself. She doesn’t need you to defend her.”

Whatever Otabek means to say in response gets cut off. Isabella talks over him, snapping, “He’s not my husband anymore.”

Yuri goes very still.

Something stops. Time — or his heart. It could be both. Maybe his lungs stop too, while Yuri experiences a few brief flashes of memory.

Tan skin, hot against his back. Black ink beneath his fingertips. The taste of champagne on his tongue. The night lights of Beijing out the window. Warm breath in his ear. Stubble against his cheek, his neck, his chin. Large hands on his hips. The glint of a platinum wedding band, right there in the center of his vision, as he caught his breath and floated in the aftermath, while every cell in his body hummed.

Two trips to Beijing. Two gold medals. Two bottles of wine. Two nights spent tangled in hotel sheets. Two morning afters, each time waking up to the same blue eyes.

Nine months spent wavering between smug satisfaction and willful avoidance.

A heavy silence falls. Yuri struggles to contain his shock and confusion. His expression falters, mean smirk going slack as he considers the news. It takes only moments for him to grasp Isabella’s meaning. Then his eyes widen, and he looks between both Otabek and Isabella for any sign that they might know.

They can’t. If either of them suspected a thing, he would have heard about it before now. Otabek would have given him the “What were you thinking?” talk, right before Isabella took matters into her own hands and killed him.

Instead, Isabella sneers, “Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Hers isn’t the face of a wife betrayed. There’s contempt in her voice, but no accusation. She looks uneasy. One might think she hadn’t meant to disclose that information.

Yuri swallows through the alarm and tests the waters by forcing a nasty grin.

“What, he finally got tired of you?” he taunts her. “He always did like to flirt. Did he fuck someone else?”

“ _Yura_ …” Otabek says.

“Or did you cheat on him?” Yuri continues. “Is the baby not his? Did he toss you out on your ass when he found out?”

“Yuri, _that’s enough_ ,” Otabek snaps at him.

He looks angry. Otabek frowns a lot to begin with, but he’s generally not the type for blatant outrage. That’s Yuri’s part to play, not his.

Yuri often envies Otabek’s composure — how adept he is a keeping his irritation to himself. He’s quiet and dignified in a way Yuri has never been able to adopt for himself. People respect it more than they respect Yuri’s volatility. They take Otabek seriously. No one looks down on him. No one ever treated Otabek like a child at the start of his Senior career.

Still, he has fury in him somewhere. Yuri has seen it before. It’s a rare thing, but it’s there. Otabek has the most unsettling glare Yuri’s ever seen. There’s seldom much heat behind it. Not like Yuri, who spits fire when enraged. Otabek’s glare is dispassionate. His eyes go dark and chilling, and all the warmth drains from his voice.

Seeing that look directed at someone else fills Yuri with a sense of glee.

Seeing it directed at himself fills him with bitter resentment.

Yuri makes an effort to control himself. He doesn’t want to appear visibly unnerved. Aggravation twists his gut again, but he quells it for as long as he can, switching back to Russian to ask, “How long has she been there?”

Wordlessly, Isabella slinks away. Her arms slip off of Otabek’s shoulders. She steps aside like she means to leave, but Yuri can still see her lingering in the background, glaring spitefully.

She wouldn’t do that if she knew.

Somehow, that thought fails to bring Yuri much comfort.

Otabek sighs heavily. “A few days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Yuri demands.

“You’ve been busy.”

It would be a weak excuse from anyone else. From Otabek, it could actually be legitimate. Communication has never been their strong suit. Otabek in particular has been known to make decisions and act on them without bothering to discuss it beforehand. He thinks that by doing so he’s saving other people an unnecessary amount of trouble.

Yuri thinks it’s a mark of arrogance.

“And, what? You couldn’t text me? By the way, Yura,” Yuri sneers, “that bitch you hate is staying with me after she divorces her husband.”

“What happened between Bella and JJ isn’t my business to tell,” Otabek says.

“But you could have told me she was staying,” Yuri argues.

“And what would that accomplish? You would have been pissed off about it and dug around for dirt like you always do. You have Karina to worry about and the Final coming up next week. I didn’t want this distracting you.”

“So you weren’t going to tell me at all.”

It isn’t a question. There isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that Otabek meant for this visit to come and go without comment.

If Isabella was anyone else — a distant relative, or another friend, or even a stranger Yuri has never met — the secrecy wouldn’t have mattered. It’s Otabek’s business who he has over. Yuri’s opinion matters only as far as Otabek wants it to. They share plenty of themselves with one another, but they don’t always discuss who they allow into their lives. They don’t have to. Their relationship has never included that stipulation. It’s never been an issue before. At the end of the day, they’re friends first and occasionally lovers second.

But this is different, because _Isabella_ is different. She _isn’t_ family, and she’s certainly not _Yuri’s_ friend. She’s not a flirty fan of the Hero of Kazakhstan, nor is she someone Otabek met at the club. There have been many of those over the years; Yuri only saw a few of their faces, and he barely remembers any of their names. Isabella’s presence is far more significant. She isn’t a nothing or a noone. She’s the wife of Otabek’s friend and former rinkmate. She’s the wife of the man who was once Yuri’s fiercest rival, before injury took that away from them.

This situation is out of the ordinary, and Yuri finds himself struggling to adapt to it.

Otabek’s voice goes slow and deep with impatience when he answers, “I don’t know.”

“What the fuck is she doing there?” Yuri asks again. He’s on his elbows now, leaning toward the computer screen like he can climb through it and get into Otabek’s face. “Why doesn’t she stay with someone else?”

“Because she and I are friends,” Otabek reminds him.

“You and JJ are friends,” Yuri counters. Mentioning JJ by name again nearly makes him stammer. Before tonight, the last time he said that name was on a moan. “Is this you picking sides?”

“There isn’t a side to pick.”

“Does JJ know she’s there?”

“As far as I’m aware,” Otabek replies. “Bella wanted to get away. I offered her the spare room.”

“Get away from _what_?” Yuri sneers. “Her marriage? Her own baby?”

“I’m not going to talk about this with you if you’re just going to instigate.”

Yuri flounders for something to say — something that isn’t rash or spiteful, or the product of his own misgivings.

It’s uncommon for he and Otabek to argue. They bicker about stupid things sometimes, like all friends do. They’ve always had similar interests, but they’re different people from different walks of life who had very different experiences growing up. They’re bound to disagree on occasion. Normally, whatever conflict arises between them doesn’t last long. Things don’t grow tense or uncomfortable. Their squabbles don’t make Yuri feel as if something might change irreparably if he’s not careful.

But this feels heavy and unsettling. Something hot and unpleasant bubbles up in Yuri’s chest — a sudden, burning sense of jealousy that takes him by surprise.

He can accept that Otabek is on decent terms with Isabella. The antagonism between them is Yuri’s battle to fight, not Otabek’s. He doesn’t need Otabek to back him up or defend him.

Except there’s a part of him that wishes Otabek would — the part of Yuri already wallowing in disappointment, knowing that his fantasies will probably never come to be. If not for that, maybe he could have handled this situation with maturity instead of vindictiveness.

Yuri has always felt defeated in his dealings with Isabella. Even now, when he has the upper hand, he hasn’t won anything, because she’s there with Otabek and JJ hasn’t said a word about it, and spilling his secrets now will only make Yuri the villain.

Or perhaps he already is one. Perhaps that’s what he’s always been. He certainly doesn’t feel _guilty_ if, by chance, those two nights in Beijing had anything to do with the end of Isabella’s marriage.

He was fine with that before, in the aftermath.

Now it all seems so unfair.

In the end, Yuri does what he’s always done when he feels cornered and at a loss. He lashes out with hatefulness.

“Are you fucking her?” he asks.

Because it’s easier to blame Isabella than to accept any of the blame himself. Because it makes him feel better to spew the accusation and drag Otabek down to his level. Because he knows Otabek would have — once, long ago when Isabella wasn’t off limits, before Yuri had any part to play in their lives at all.

The rational part of him knows it’s not a legitimate question. The answer is “no.” He doesn’t need to see the fury in Otabek’s eyes to be sure of that.

Otabek isn’t spiteful like Yuri. He isn’t weak to bitterness like Yuri. He wouldn’t sabotage a friendship by fucking his friend’s ex-wife.

Yuri watches Otabek’s glare grow narrow and dangerous.

“We’re done now,” Otabek says. “Call me when you drop the petty bullshit.”

“Fuck off,” Yuri snaps.

He doesn’t want to keep talking about it anyway. Otabek’s intentions or his reasons for keeping Isabella’s visit a secret make no difference when Yuri has secrets of his own. Nothing either of them have to say will change the outcome for the better, not while Yuri’s temper is out of control and Otabek is on the defensive. If anything, continuing the conversation will probably make things worse.

Before Otabek can bite out a short “goodbye” or “good luck,” or whatever other farewell he might feel the need to impart, Yuri slams his laptop shut.

He pillows his head with his arms, sinks his fingers into his hair, and releases a low, wordless shriek of frustration into the mattress. When that accomplishes nothing, Yuri hoists himself up and searches his bed for his phone. He finds it tangled up in the blankets, but drops it almost immediately after taking it into his hand. He shoves it off the bed. If it remains out of reach, maybe he won’t give into the temptation to call JJ and demand an explanation.

This can’t be about Beijing. He would have known already if it was. Isabella has been in Almaty for days, and no one has said anything about it to Yuri. Not Otabek. Not JJ. It can’t have anything to do with him. It _shouldn’t_ have anything to do with him. Beijing was never supposed to mean anything. It was wine, spite, and adrenalin, all wrapped up into two nights he was content never to speak of.

None of it was ever supposed to become _this_.

Yuri flops onto his back and scrubs his hands down his face. He presses the heels of his palms against his temples and squeezes tight, like he can somehow force out enough negativity to calm himself instead of blowing up.

It doesn't work, because Yuri has nothing to focus on but the silence of his apartment, and the ache deep in his chest that won’t subside.

* * *

[A picture of four-year-old Pavel, a boy with dark hair and blue eyes, seated on a bench at an ice rink. Yuri kneels at his feet, helping him tie his skates.]

**37,094 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** A star in the making #stopgrowing #babypopo1 #teamrussia

 **mila_babicheva** He looks impatient  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila_babicheva He was. He said I’m too slow  
**mila_babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Rude little brat  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila_babicheva He has his priorities that’s all

DECEMBER 2

* * *

The 2022 Grand Prix Final is a tiresome affair, not because Yuri has to put a considerable amount of effort into extending his win streak to three years, but because he _doesn’t_.

Securing the gold is hardly a challenge. There’s no drama or excitement. Yuri comes into the event expecting an easy win, and that’s exactly what he gets. It’s nothing like his first senior Grand Prix Final seven years ago, when he was fifteen, friendless, and desperate for gold. He hasn’t had a proper rival since the 2020 Final, and most of the elite skaters who became his friends over the years have already retired. At twenty-two, he is the second oldest of this year’s six competitors — one of the celebrated veterans all the teenaged rising stars look up to.

Logically, Yuri knows that he is hardly old. He is a young adult of questionable maturity. He often laments the passing years that carry him closer to retirement, but he is not yet deteriorating. He is healthy and energetic. If he manages to avoid any serious injuries, he could last into his late twenties like Georgi, Viktor, and Yuuri.

It’s the wide, admiring eyes of Yuri’s younger competitors that make him _feel_ old. When he isn’t at the arena, Yuri spends an awful lot of time avoiding them.

He spends an awful lot of time avoiding _everyone_ , actually. His phone began to buzz with text message after text message before he even arrived in Colorado Springs. Yuri has made a point of ignoring many of them; others, he’s had different excuses prepared for. The first night, he lied and claimed plans with Yakov and Lilia. Over the rest of the week, he declared a need for extra practice. If he wasn’t “too busy” then he was “too tired” for socializing.

No one in Yuri’s social circle believes him. He’s been called out on his lies more than once. They only let him get away with it because they’re used to his finicky behavior.

But with the free skate over and another gold medal packed safely away in Yuri’s luggage, he can’t hold the pestering hord off anymore. By Saturday evening, they descend upon him with a relentlessness he should have expected, but was somehow still hopeful he could avoid.

Yuri lies on the bed in his hotel room, stretched out in a miserable sprawl as he regrets ever deciding that he actually likes Guang Hong Ji.

He didn’t always. Yuri remembers being annoyed by him during their years in the Junior Division. Everyone annoyed him then, of course. For most of their first year in the Senior Division, Yuri continued to overlook him. Then Leo and Guang Hong helped him track down Otabek in Barcelona. Yuri found it very hard to dislike either of them after that, but particularly Guang Hong, who kept texting him moral support, and told him how much of a badass he was for sneaking into a club in a foreign country while underage.

With a heavy sigh, Yuri consents to respond.

   

It’s at that very moment that JJ himself begins to bombard Yuri with texts. Yuri’s phone vibrates in his hand, one jolt after another, until he considers tossing it away or shutting it off completely. He sees the notifications appear at the top of the screen but studiously avoids looking at them, choosing to type out his response to Guang Hong instead.

   

Yuri presses his face into his pillow and groans. Or he intends to. It comes out sounding more like a whimper. He could refuse and stay locked in his room for the rest of the night, but he knows Guang Hong wouldn’t be against standing outside his door, loudly reciting every embarrassing story Yuri has ever been apart of until Yuri relents.

Against his better judgement, Yuri switches from his conversation with Guang Hong to the texts sent by JJ.

   

Yuri chokes on saliva. He doesn’t even know how he manages to do so, considering his mouth has suddenly gone dry.

He was starting to think JJ would never say anything. It’s been weeks without a single word — and months before that. JJ’s had plenty of opportunities to bring up their encounters, but he hasn’t, even if he has to have considered that Yuri might know about Isabella by now.

Before, Yuri thought JJ might have kept quiet out of shame. As far as Yuri is aware, JJ has been loyal to his wife for a majority of their marriage, despite his well known penchant for flirting. Considering his moral uprightness, any indiscretion would have undoubtedly left JJ with a guilty conscience. Yuri assumed that to be the case, given the silence between them, and the secrecy.

But these aren’t the sort of messages he’d expect to receive from a disgraced man.

Yuri types out a hasty reply and hits send before JJ can continue.

   

Yuri wants to say “no.” He wants to say “no,” stay in his room, and refuse to let anyone in, until he can board a plane and return home, where he can continue to avoid this issue for the three months between now and the World Championships. He hates that it’s become an issue in the first place, and he blames JJ for all of it. JJ, who came on to him. JJ, who has now divorced his wife. JJ, who didn’t bother to discuss any of it with him — which was exactly what Yuri wanted, until Isabella showed her face and dropped that bombshell on him.

But he also wants to know the truth. He wants to confront JJ and force him to explain himself. What happened with Isabella? What drove her away? Why is she in Almaty instead of Montreal? Why do JJ’s texts seem so cheerful? Did Beijing have anything to do with it? Why? That wasn’t what was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be meaningless sex. That was what Yuri wanted. It seemed to be what JJ wanted, too. Now JJ’s wife is gone and JJ is _still_ flirting, and Yuri really doesn’t know how to process any of it.

And, sure, there’s also a teeny, _tiny_ part of him that might actually want to spend time with the friends he doesn’t often get to see in person, but he has a reputation to uphold as an unsociable bitch, so he can’t admit to that.

Yuri scowls at his phone. He doesn’t respond to JJ, but taps back into his conversation with Guang Hong.

   

Yuri spends several more minutes groaning into his pillow, wishing for once that he could be anything other than a stupid adult with stupid adult problems. If he ever had to deal with this sort of shit when he was a teenager, it wasn’t because of anything he’d done. Viktor was the one making a mess of things then, getting wasted at every turn, abandoning his obligations, and doing whatever the fuck he wanted without sparing a moment for anyone else. He was selfish and irresponsible, but he got away with it because of his enormous talent and his general likability. Now Viktor has a husband and a baby, and he’s surprisingly well-adjusted, if a little fickle still.

Viktor must have passed every part of his legacy onto Yuri, not just the skating, because now Yuri finds himself fucking up by making thoughtless decisions. Unlike Viktor, however, Yuri can’t bank on charisma to carry him through. He isn’t genial or engaging. He doesn’t have a winsome smile or a cheerful laugh. He’s sulky and resentful. He holds grudges, and he takes out his anger on other people. The heat of it might have cooled somewhat over the years, but the irritable disposition of Yuri’s youth still lingers. He never did manage to shake the rude, contentious reputation that led people to refer to him as “the Russian Punk.”

There is no possible way he won’t regret this night. Something unbelievably absurd is going to happen. Fate has already orchestrated it so perfectly. He knew it would come to be the moment he arrived at the hotel and saw JJ’s stupid face. He’s had days to prepare himself, but now that he plans to come out of hiding, he feels himself beginning to flounder in uncertainty. And yet he’s agreed to this disaster of an evening — out of frustration and mulishness, and the stupidly sentimental part of him that hates watching his friends move on without him, while he stews in impatience and jealousy.

He dreads the next few hours.

He _looks forward_ to the next few hours.

He can’t decide which he feels more.

Eventually, Yuri drags himself off of the bed and goes through the motions of getting ready. He could probably walk out in his sweats and faded hoodie and no one would say a word about it, but changing into something else offers him a distraction. With his dying breath, he will insist that the attire he chooses has nothing to do with who he will be seeing or what may or may not come of this evening.

If he happens to put on his least ripped pair of skinny jeans, which are blue instead of black and therefore better disguise the cat hair often found all over his clothes, it isn’t because he cares about looking nice. It’s just that it’s cold out and he doesn’t want the chilly air nipping at his legs. And if he makes an effort to coordinate a black and white striped shirt with a leopard print scarf, it isn’t because he’s trying to look less garish now that he’s finally learned how to better integrate prints and patterns into his clothing choices. It’s because the shirt is soft and warm and long sleeved, and the weather in Colorado Springs has recently taken a dip below freezing.

If he washes his face and brushes his teeth, it’s only because both feel gross after a lazy afternoon. If he decides to leave his hair down after taking a little extra time to brush it out, it’s only because letting it hang loose will help keep his neck and shoulders warm in the absence of a hoodie. It’s not at all because of any memories he might have of fingers tangling through it. The purple coat he picks has nothing to do with the bright, eye-catching color, and everything to do with it’s warmth and functionality. Yuri only has comfort in mind. He’s already being dragged out into a potentially awkward situation; he’s going to make damn sure he’s as comfortable as possible before he has to face it.

He isn’t trying to impress anyone. He doesn’t _have_ anyone to impress. Guang Hong and Leo wouldn’t care, Emil and Mickey would care even less, and Yuri’s too pissed off at JJ to bother. Even if he _wasn’t_ pissed off, he wouldn’t have any reason to make an effort, because spending the night with JJ didn’t mean a damned thing before, and it shouldn’t mean a damned thing now. That it happened on two separate occasions makes no difference. Yuri was tipsy and bored, and feeling a little vindictive. That’s all it was ever supposed to be.

It’s not like he’s planning on it happening again...

Yuri pockets his wallet, his phone, and his room key. He tugs on a pair of boots and gloves, then drags his feet on the way out the door. The elevator opens mere seconds after he presses the button. The ride down to the lobby also turns out to be faster than he anticipated — long enough for him to check the time on his phone, and little else.

He has ten more minutes to kill.

He would hide away in the lounge, where the younger competitors rarely venture, seeing as most of them are too young to drink in the States, but he spies Yakov and Lilia sharing a bottle of wine at the bar and decides against it. Yuri isn’t in the mood to play the third wheel. They don’t have the same sort of disgustingly sweet relationship as Viktor and Yuuri, but the way his coaches continue to pretend as if they no longer have feelings for one another is just as annoying. Yuri grew weary of it years ago.

Waiting for Guang Hong and Leo from the comfort of one of the lobby couches would be Yuri’s next choice. Unfortunately, there are already two girls sitting there. They don’t immediately look his way, but something about the way they giggle together makes Yuri think they might be Angels.

Somehow, he succeeds in skirting passed them without being noticed. Yuri assumes his choice of clothing might have something to do with it. If they’d seen someone walking by dressed head to toe in black and leopard print, they would have been after him in a matter of seconds.

Yuri escapes to the cold outdoors, where he doesn’t expect very many people to linger.

Naturally, making an assumption like that turns out to be a mistake.

“How did she like the squash?”

Yuri might have managed to successfully avoid a couple of Angels, but he's ended up walking into something much worse.

He’s run right into JJ.

Yuri freezes in place as soon as he hears JJ’s voice. For a moment, Yuri considers turning around to go back inside. Dealing with his fans has to be less awkward than this. It’s only stubbornness that keeps him where he is. He’s already agreed to dinner, and he knows what that entails. Sooner or later, he and JJ are going to be in one another’s company. If he hadn’t already resigned himself to it, Yuri would still be up in his room.

With some caution, Yuri turns to spy JJ standing to the side of the entrance, out of the way and just barely beneath the portico, which at the moment provides the only shelter from the tiny flakes of snow that slowly fall from the night sky. JJ’s focused on his phone and doesn’t seem to notice Yuri right away, smiling while he chats over FaceTime. Yuri tries to see who’s on the screen, but distance and the angle make it impossible. He can’t even hear their response clearly, but he watches JJ tilt his head on a laugh.

“I didn’t think she would,” JJ says. Then his voice goes a little high and sweet, and he adds, “It’s okay, Mel Mel. Papa doesn’t really like squash either.”

Yuri won’t admit it out loud, at least not without several drinks to quell his mood and loosen his tongue, but JJ looks good.

He always has, as long as Yuri’s known him. It simply didn’t matter much when they were younger. Not that either of them can be considered old these days, but the years have certainly changed them both — arguably for the better.

Out of habit, Yuri wants to say that JJ Leroy continues to be the bane of his existence.

The truth of the matters is, that hasn’t been the case for quite some time.

It’s a rather unfortunate turn of events. Things wouldn’t be so fucked up now if Yuri could hate JJ as intensely as he hated him at fifteen.

Yuri can’t say for certain when things changed. Maybe there was a precise moment and he simply didn’t notice. More than likely, it was a gradual process. From season to season, something shifted. Georgi retired. Chris and Viktor retired. Yuuri retired. New skaters rose through the ranks to replace them, and though Yuri knew many of them from his years in the Junior Division, they were not his friends.

JJ was a familiar face in a changing crowd. Their interactions were predictable. Yuri knew what to expect when they saw one another. Compared to less familiar annoyances from less familiar people, JJ seemed tolerable. They both grew and matured — sometimes subtly, and sometimes in unmistakable ways. Yuri maintained his hostility because it was a comfortable habit, but the anger behind it diminished.

It’s become something of a game between them. JJ flirts and spouts off his jokes, and Yuri responds with his insults. There might be some pushing and shoving, but it’s more playful these days. On occasion, JJ has leant his ear when Yuri wants to bitch about something but doesn’t have anyone else around to listen. In return, Yuri has allowed himself to be amused by JJ whenever JJ teases other people the way he’s always enjoyed teasing Yuri. Their texting follows a similar theme — jokes and snark, and the occasionally cordial “congratulations babydoll” or “hey fuckface get ready to have your ass handed to you.”

Difficult though it might be to determine when Yuri’s hatred cooled, it’s nearly impossible to pinpoint when exactly Yuri decided he found JJ attractive. It would have been sometime after Otabek, once Yuri actually felt motivated to give sex and intimacy a chance.

JJ is certainly easy on the eyes. Yuri doesn’t feel any shame admitting it to himself, even if he has no intention of verbalizing it. After all, he isn’t the only one to think so. Plenty of people around the world share that opinion.

There’s a list somewhere. Yuri remembers seeing it online a few years back — “The World’s Hottest Male Figure Skaters.” JJ was ranked #1, two spots ahead of “Yuri Plisetsky, recently legal worldwide.” JJ has earned a spot on several other lists since then. #1 on “The 10 Richest Figure Skaters,” a feat that doesn’t necessarily require good looks, but Yuri thinks it bears mentioning when some aspects of JJ’s expansive career have obviously benefited from his appearance. He’s even ranked as high as #5 on a yearly list of “100 of the World’s Sexiest Alphas,” which Yuri was _almost_ impressed by, considering JJ has been the only figure skater in recent memory to make it on a list dominated almost exclusively by well-established movie stars. Then Yuri remembered JJ’s band and fashion line, and it suddenly seemed marginally less impressive.

JJ looks his best when he isn’t even trying, when he shuts his mouth and stands there looking so laid-back. Yuri sees plenty to like while JJ’s distracted by his phone. The casual sweep of his hair. The natural thickness of his eyebrows. The straight line of his nose. The easy, casual smile that stretches across his face, not the cocky grin Yuri sees too often in competition. The fullness of his lips. The strong cut of his jaw. The width of his shoulders and the thickness of his chest. Yuri drinks it all in while the has the chance, before JJ notices him there and ruins the moment.

Since that first night in Beijing earlier in the year, Yuri has wondered if one of the reasons he finds JJ so attractive is because, for as long as Yuri has known him, JJ has been unavailable. It was rather suspicious, how his relationship with JJ improved around the same time Yuri’s interactions with Isabella continued to sour. Yuri’s sure it makes him a shitty person, that there’s a part of him that’s felt smug — not that he’s had any intention of stealing JJ away from Isabella, but there’s been a certain sense of satisfaction simply knowing that he _could_.

As Yuri stands there, openly staring now, he’s almost relieved that his attraction hasn’t been tempered by the news that JJ and Isabella are no longer together. If the attraction is still there, then it might not have been a result of his bitchy vindictive streak after all, and Yuri can console himself with the knowledge that he isn’t quite as terrible of a person as he previously assumed.

Then again, this means he can no longer blame any of his more malicious intentions — which opens up the horrifying possibility that it had nothing to do with Isabella, and everything to do with the fact that he might actually like JJ.

JJ continues his conversation for a few minutes more, without looking at Yuri once. Yuri hears a smattering of French interspersed with English, but it’s spoken too quickly for him to piece together many of the words. He thinks JJ says something about going to sleep, a suspicion that’s soon confirmed when JJ’s speech gives way to a lullaby.

“I was never alive ‘til the day I was blessed with you… When I hold you late at night, I know what I was put here to do…”

It’s then that Yuri’s brain catches up with the conversation, and he realizes exactly who JJ has on FaceTime.

Yuri throws all caution to the wind and makes his approach. He gives no warning before grabbing JJ’s forearm, forcing JJ to tilt his phone at an angle that offers Yuri a clear view of the screen without him appearing on camera.

JJ doesn’t even seem surprised by Yuri’s sudden interference. He goes right on singing.

There’s a woman on the screen Yuri doesn’t recognize, middle aged with short dark hair and features that bear no resemblance to JJ. Yuri spares her little more than a brief glance before his gaze locks onto the baby in her arms.

Of all the children that have been born to his friends over the last several years, the one Yuri knows the least about is Melody Leroy. He knows only her name, and that she was born during the off-season. She rarely features in JJ’s social media posts. JJ was similarly tight lipped about her at the Cup of China last month, though in JJ’s defense, Yuri had every opportunity to ask, but didn’t. At the time, it seemed like an inappropriate topic, given that Yuri was under the assumption that JJ was cheating on his wife.

Only now is Yuri beginning to wonder if that might not have been the case after all.

He can’t see much of Melody without a closer look at the screen. She’s black haired — unsurprising, when one looks at her parents. Her cheeks are round, and she’s developed enough that she can keep her head up on her own. The lighting is dim, but Yuri can still make out the drool coating her chin. She must be teething. She’s sucking on a pacifier, and dressed in bright pink Minnie Mouse pajamas. She looks tired with her head lowered on the woman’s shoulder, but every once in a while her arm moves toward the camera like she can reach to JJ through it.

JJ’s voice is soft and loving while he sings. If Yuri had any doubts about JJ’s feelings for his daughter before now, they’re immediately put to rest.

“Night night, Melody,” he says when he’s done. “Papa loves you.”

“Enjoy your night, JJ,” the woman says, with obvious fondness.

“Thanks, Maggie.”

JJ waves for the camera, then disconnects the call. He slides his phone into one of his coat pockets and finally turns his attention to Yuri.

It isn’t until JJ moves his arm that Yuri realizes he’s still holding onto it, right beneath JJ’s elbow. Yuri snatches his hand away and takes a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he does so. Briefly, he meets JJ’s eye, but JJ looks back at him with a mix of interest and amusement, so Yuri glances to the side instead. He makes a show of keeping an eye out for Leo and Guang Hong’s arrival.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” JJ says. “Why the long face?”

Yuri spares an irritated glance out of the corner of his eye.

He’s disgusted by his clichéd attraction to JJ’s tall, dark, and handsome image. Then again, perhaps it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. Yuri has already fallen for the bad boy. He clearly has a thing for clichés.

The years have been kind enough to improve upon Yuri’s previously diminutive height, but JJ still manages to tower over him. At least the difference isn’t as significant as it used to be. Instead of staring at JJ’s neck, Yuri is nearly eye-level with JJ’s mouth — a most unfortunate circumstance, given that JJ’s mouth has the ability to make Yuri go a bit weak in the knees, so long as JJ controls his obnoxious grin. Yuri takes great pride in not staring, even when his traitorous brain supplies him with a few unwelcome memories.

Two years ago, when JJ suffered a knee injury and went on a prolonged hiatus, Yuri was content to put his attraction behind him. It was only recently discovered back then, and not yet something he cared to accept about himself. It would have done him no good to pursue it. Besides, Yuri was deep into his Otabek delusions at the time. JJ was little more than a passing curiosity.

Needless to say, things never panned out with Otabek. As disenchanted as he’s been, Yuri can’t find it in himself to be shocked that, a year and a half later, his attraction to JJ came right back into focus. Apparently, that’s another cliche he can add to the list — Yuri Plisetsky, the sad fuck who’s attracted to people he can’t have. JJ showed up at the Beijing Olympics in February, _alone_ , with his hair artfully tousled and his face coated by a fine layer of stubble, and Yuri made very little effort to resist the turn of events that followed.

He thought he knew what he was getting himself into.

Apparently, he had no idea.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yuri asks, pleased when his voice sounds hard and scathing. “You didn’t even make it to the Final.”

JJ’s still wearing that easy smile. He shrugs, as nonchalant as ever, and says, “My brother and sister did. And my friends. Can’t I come along to show my support?”

“Don’t you have Nationals to prepare for?”

“I am. I used to train here, you know.”

“So, what? You just show up and everyone lets you do whatever the fuck you want?”

JJ neither confirms nor denies it. He shrugs again, as his smile widens and curls.

With a scoff, Yuri turns to eye him fully.

The layer of stubble remains. It shouldn’t be sexy because it irritated Yuri’s skin both times they were together, but something about it does spark his interest. It sets JJ apart from many of the other skaters. Even the men who can grow facial hair rarely sport it during competition. Emil was always an exception. Chris, too, though his attempts to grow a proper beard were much less successful. JJ himself used to be perpetually clean-shaven. Every aspect of his appearance was immaculately polished — to such an obnoxious degree, Yuri would have punched JJ in the face simply to tarnish some of that perfection. At least the stubble lends a certain carelessness to him, which probably contributes to the appeal of this new look.

Nevertheless, JJ is as impeccably dressed as he’s always been. His wool coat is tailored to his frame. The navy color of it brings out more of the light blue in his eyes. He’s left it unbuttoned, so Yuri can see the teal v-neck sweater he wears over a white t-shirt. The sweater looks soft and warm. Cashmere, if Yuri had to guess. JJ’s shoes and gloves are leather. His jeans are dark, and snug around his thighs.

He smells like alpha and expensive cologne. Yuri often finds the combination overpowering on other people, but whatever cologne JJ favors compliments his natural scent well. The effect is surprisingly inviting. Yuri wouldn’t be totally against sticking his face against JJ’s neck to breathe it in, except doing so would cross a line he’d still very much like to keep between them — at least until JJ decides to tell him what the fuck is going on.

“I’m pissed off at you,” Yuri announces.

JJ doesn’t even have the grace to look apologetic. “I know.”

“What kind of fucking idiot are you that you’d—”

JJ’s eyes flick away to glance behind Yuri. It’s the only warning Yuri gets before there are arms around his waist, lifting him off of his feet.

Yuri’s resulting shriek is embarrassingly shrill. He struggles for a moment, but can’t break free. Then he glares over his shoulder into the grinning face of Emil Nekola.

“Hey there, kitty cat,” Emil says. “Finally decided to come out with us?”

“I can still leave, dumbass,” Yuri snarls. “Put me down.”

Emil, at least, doesn’t need to be told twice. He gives Yuri an affectionate squeeze that Yuri only allows because he knows it means he’ll be released soon. Indeed, Emil sets him back onto his feet immediately after, ducking around him to pull JJ into a quick hug that ends with a ridiculously choreographed handshake.

Mickey follows along, looking exasperated. He and Yuri frown at one another in greeting.

“Mila says you need to get out more,” Mickey tells him, in that long-suffering way that means Mila has probably been badgering him about letting Yuri hide away in his hotel room all week.

“Mila can kiss my ass,” Yuri says. “She could’ve competed this year and forced me out all she wanted. Instead, your sister dragged her off to Italy and knocked her up.”

Predictably, Mickey’s expression turns sour.

“They sure didn’t waste any time after the wedding,” JJ observes. “Mila was pregnant within a month, wasn’t she?”

Mickey’s frown becomes a scowl.

“Don’t pout,” Emil says, nudging Mickey’s side with a playful hand. “We get to be uncles. It’ll be fun!”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use for it,” Mickey grumbles.

“Come on, kids are hilarious.”

“Wait until you have your own,” JJ says. His grin is wide and fond.

“Absolutely not,” Mickey says.

Emil digs his fingers into Mickey’s side again. “We’ve talked about adopting.”

It’s Yuri’s turn to scowl. Though the tension with JJ has diffused somewhat with the arrival of Mickey and Emil, a different sort of pressure soon replaces it. This one finds its basis in jealousy. Try as Mickey might to look agitated by the teasing, there’s an undercurrent of warmth and affection between him and Emil that goes unspoken, but not unseen.

Yuri turns away from them and glares out into the night. Luckily, he doesn’t have to listen to much more of their cheerful talk, because a pair of headlights soon cut through the darkness. A large black SUV rolls up to the front of the hotel.

Even if Yuri didn’t know what kind of car Leo drives, he would recognize Leo’s influence on the vehicle. There’s a plush red ball attached to the center of the front grille, reindeer antlers above the passenger and driver’s side doors, and “Ho Ho Ho!” written in white paint along the back windows. It’s festive and tacky, which makes it right up Leo’s alley.

The passenger side window rolls down, and Guang Hong’s smiling face beams out at them.

“Leo says I should make a Mean Girls reference,” he calls to them, “but how many of you would actually find it funny?”

“I would,” JJ and Emil answer in unison.

Mickey huffs but doesn’t respond. Yuri doesn’t say anything either, though he knows exactly what Guang Hong means. Even if Yuuri and Phichit hadn’t forced him to watch the movie a few years back, he’s familiar enough with the meme.

“Okay, fine,” Guang Hong says. “Get in, losers, we’re going to dinner.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and scuffs the soles of his boots along the pavement as he approaches the SUV. The other three follow close behind. Before Yuri can reach for the back door, JJ’s hand slips by him and grabs the handle. Yuri steps aside to let him open it, never one to complain about the royal treatment, though it takes every ounce of restraint Yuri has not to tense up when he climbs into the car with JJ’s other hand against his lower back.

Either no one notices, or they don’t think anything of it, because the gesture goes without comment.

“Nice of you to join us,” Guang Hong teases. He looks far too pleased with himself, twisted around in the passenger seat to grin at Yuri.

Yuri glowers at him, then very deliberately wraps one arm around the driver’s seat to give Leo as much of a hug as he’s able, all while showing Guang Hong one of his middle fingers.

Guang Hong lets out an exaggerated gasp. “Rude. Where’s _my_ hug?”

“Where’s Luna?” Yuri asks, settling into the seat behind Leo while Emil and Mickey duck into the very back.

“With my parents,” Leo says.

“Why didn’t you bring her?”

Guang Hong snorts. “You really want a five week old baby at dinner?”

“Why do you think I agreed to come out with you?” Yuri says.

“Because you love us and you’ve missed us, and also you’re probably hungry and want free food.”

Yuri doesn’t bother to deny any of it. Instead, he extends his hand into the front of the car and demands, “Give me your phone.”

“Why?” Guang Hong asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“I know you don’t post every picture on Instagram.”

Guang Hong sighs like he isn’t actually thrilled to have Yuri along. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it before passing it back to him.

JJ takes the seat behind Guang Hong, which puts him next to Yuri. Not until they’ve all buckled their seatbelts does Leo pull away from the hotel. It’s warm in the SUV. Quiet strains of Christmas music drift from the sound system. Yuri makes himself comfortable, reclining in his seat as he pulls up the photos on Guang Hong’s phone.

Most of them feature little Luna de la Iglesia, with Guang Hong and Leo in supporting roles, occasionally accompanied by Guang Hong’s mother and several members of Leo’s family. Yuri slowly works his way through them, holding the phone up to his face so he can study Luna closely.

“She looks like you,” he tells Guang Hong.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying, but I don’t see it,” Guang Hong says. “I think she looks like Leo.”

“You’ve been conditioned to think that way,” Yuri counters without taking his eyes off of the phone. “Some psychological shit about mothers wanting to assure paternity. You know, because back in the day there weren’t tests to verify, so if a father was convinced the baby looked like them, they’d be less likely to be a prick and reject it.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I read a study about it.”

“You read a study,” Emil says — slowly, like he finds it hard to believe Yuri would actually do that.

Yuri shoots him a quick glare over his shoulder before returning to the pictures of Luna. “Most babies resemble both of their parents. Luna has Leo’s hair and nose, but the rest is Guang Hong.”

“Told you,” Leo says.

“Since when have you been an authority on the subject?” JJ asks.

Yuri doesn’t spare him a single glance. “Since everyone around me started having kids.”

“You say that like we’ve betrayed you,” Guang Hong observes.

“You have,” Yuri says. “Who hasn’t been competing this season? _You_. Because you were a whore and got knocked up at the Olympics.”

Guang Hong snorts again. “As if you weren’t getting any.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Yura, you had beard burn the day of the closing ceremonies.”

JJ actually laughs — a short, loud bark of amusement that alarms Yuri, because it sounds far too conspicuous. Yuri lashes out before he can think better of it, reaching over to smack JJ right in the center of his chest, which doesn’t shut him up, but at least his wheezing sounds pained instead of amused.

Yuri knows he’s made a grave mistake as soon as Guang Hong turns around in the passenger seat to eye him intently.

“It was a rash from the cold,” Yuri says, in as casual a tone as he can manage.

Guang Hong holds his hand out. “I want my phone back.”

“Why?”

“Just give it back.”

Yuri huffs when he hands it over. Their eyes meet and Guang Hong stares at him meaningfully, but Yuri turns away to watch the street lights streak by out the window. He folds his arms over his chest and does his best to tune out JJ coughing air back into his lungs, while Emil launches into another story about this year’s Olympic Games.

The buzzing of Yuri’s phone in his pocket serves as enough of a distraction. Reluctantly, Yuri pulls it out and checks his notifications to see that Guang Hong has sent him a text from the front seat.

He considers ignoring it, but doesn’t trust Guang Hong not to say anything out loud if he doesn’t get a response.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t trust Guang Hong about anything in this situation. Guang Hong has spent an inordinate amount of time training in the States during each off-season, and his close affiliation with Leo over the years means he’s been friendly with JJ longer than Yuri has. JJ and Isabella must not be sharing the news of their divorce with very many people if the press hasn’t gotten wind of it yet, but it wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to assume that some of their family and friends are aware. If Otabek knows, there’s a good chance Leo knows, which means Guang Hong has to know, too.

Yuri droops down in his seat and shoots Guang Hong a few suspicious looks as they text back and forth, but Guang Hong is too busy thumbing at his screen to turn back around.

      

Okay, _that_ doesn’t seem so good. February would imply that whatever happened between JJ and Isabella was tangled up around the Olympics. If it occurred during the time _before_ JJ arrived in Beijing to watch the Games, then it probably had nothing to do with Yuri ending up in JJ’s hotel room.

But if JJ and Isabella split in the week _after_ …

 _Fuck_.

That is _not_ good. That is so far from good. That is way beyond anything Yuri intended when he got a little tipsy and decided to flirt back.

Not that his intentions were very honorable to begin with, considering he slept with JJ, _twice_ , while under the impression that JJ was married.

Cautiously, Yuri shifts just enough to peer beside him. JJ has recovered from the smack and seems to be in the midst of an animated discussion with Emil. He’s twisted around in his seat as much as his seatbelt will allow, vigorously nodding along to something Emil says, before launching into a comment of his own. Yuri can’t determine the topic because his senses have come to a screeching halt. None of the words are registering in his brain. He feels strangely numb and weightless. It takes far longer than it should for Yuri to realize he hasn’t taken a proper breath of air since receiving Guang Hong’s response. When he finally does, Yuri draws the air in deep and holds it in his lungs until they ache.

His staring does not go unnoticed. Once Emil picks up his part of the conversation again, JJ turns slightly and locks eyes with Yuri. JJ’s mouth lifts on one side, curling into one of those self-satisfied half smiles Yuri used to hate. Seeing it now, Yuri’s gut burns with the desire to force it right off of JJ’s face, preferably with his own mouth.

As if that wasn't infuriating enough, JJ winks at him.

The fucker _winks_ — sultry and slow, and so unruffled by this entire fucked up situation, it makes Yuri want to scream.

Yuri tears his eyes away before he can lose control of his expression. He’d prefer to direct the look of confusion and discomfort on his face toward his phone, rather than allow JJ to bask in it like a smug fucking bastard.

         

Suddenly, JJ’s voice breaks through the cloud of silence that has fallen over Yuri.

“Who’s blowing up your phone?” he asks, in a tone that’s far too deliberate for Yuri to believe he doesn’t already know.

“Beka,” Yuri responds automatically, at the same time Guang Hong answers, “Phichit.”

“That’s not suspicious at all,” Mickey says.

Up in the driver’s seat, Leo chuckles quietly.

This could not be worse. Yuri can’t think of a more fucked up outcome. It isn’t even that he cares about JJ’s marriage. If JJ and Isabella are done, then oh well, tough shit, and good riddance. That’s for JJ and Isabella to deal with. Yuri refuses to accept any blame. Their marriage was never his responsibility. Whatever problems existed between them, Yuri didn’t cause them. He’s nothing more than a bystander — not exactly innocent, but he likes to think his influence on matters would have been minimal at best.

JJ’s intentions are what Yuri finds so unnerving. Sure, JJ hasn’t given any indication that he wants anything from Yuri, and the fact that he didn’t bother to tell Yuri about the breakup of his marriage seems to imply that JJ isn’t looking to expand the parameters of their relationship beyond the occasional one night stand, but now Yuri can’t be sure. He doesn’t know _what_ JJ wants, because JJ never _tells_ him anything.

Not that Yuri’s any better at communicating.

Arriving at the restaurant does nothing to dampen the charged atmosphere. Yuri escapes the car only to have Guang Hong immediately link arms with him on the way inside. They exchange a few looks, ranging from discomfort to disbelief, but Guang Hong doesn’t actually corner Yuri until they’re safely indoors.

The steakhouse they’ve come to is disgustingly corny, all rustic wood beams and paneling, with taxidermied birds and deer heads mounted on the walls, but Yuri knows the food will be exactly what he asked for, so he lets the awful décor go without comment.

It’s busy on a Saturday night. Leo talks to one of the hostesses and has their group put down for a table. While the others stand chatting, Guang Hong pulls Yuri onto a cushioned bench near the hostess station. The crowd around them is loud enough that their conversation can go mostly unheard, as long as they keep their heads together and their voices low.

“When I made fun of the sexual tension, I didn’t think you’d actually act on it,” Guang Hong says — not angry, though certainly a bit scandalized. “What were you _thinking_?”

Yuri’s voice is flat when he answers, “That I’d just won Olympic gold and I deserved a decent celebration.”

“So you _slept_ with him?”

“He came onto me. I said fuck it and went along with it. It’s not like I was trying to break them up.”

“Does Bella know?” Guang Hong asks.

Yuri shrugs. “I’m not dead yet, so probably not.”

“Did you tell Otabek?”

“Why the fuck would I tell Beka?”

“Because you two have _a thing_.”

“We don’t have _a thing_ ,” Yuri argues.

“He’s your best friend,” Guang Hong reminds him — as if Yuri really needs reminding.

“So?”

“Who you’ve also slept with.”

“I still don’t see your point,” Yuri says, scowling again.

“You tell him everything,” Guang Hong explains, “but you haven’t told him you slept with JJ.”

That probably seems telling. It’s true that Yuri wouldn’t have hesitated to say anything if he’d chosen a different partner. He doesn’t have any reason to hide who he takes to bed from Otabek. Granted, Yuri hasn’t pursued many people. His list of fuck buddies is fairly small. In fact, it consists of Otabek and JJ, but he can’t say that without someone making stupid assumptions about what that means.

It doesn’t mean anything — just that he’s picky, or that he takes several years to warm up to people, or that he’s simply not comfortable sleeping with some random ass person he just met. No one should be terribly surprised by that, seeing as Yuri is notoriously asocial.

“What was I supposed to tell him?” Yuri asks. “He’s friends with JJ. He’s friends with Isabella. You think he’d be impressed?”

“No,” Guang Hong says. “The secrecy just makes it seem worse.”

Yuri tilts his head back against the wall behind him and closes his eyes. “Nothing’s going to make it seem any better. It was easier to just let it go and forget about it.”

“But you didn’t forget about it.”

That much is obvious. Still, Yuri feels the need to argue, “I was doing a decent job until this bullshit happened.”

He hears Guang Hong sigh beside him, then feels him shift along the bench to close the small bit of space between them. Guang Hong’s head settles close enough to Yuri’s that Yuri can feel a few strands of Guang Hong’s hair tickling the side of his face.

“So then did you dress cute tonight because of JJ?” Guang Hong gently teases.

Yuri snorts and cracks his eyes open so he can show Guang Hong an impassive stare. “Don’t be so fucking stupid. I don’t look cute.”

“You do!” Guang Hong insists. “You look so bright and tidy!”

“You’re saying I don’t usually look good?”

“No, just that sometimes you look sort of scary.”

Yuri rolls his eyes before closing them again. Some of the tension begins to fade away now that Guang Hong has deviated from accusatory to cheerful. At the same time, the fatigue of the last several days slowly starts to creep up on him. If given the chance, Yuri could probably doze off for a while. A cold breeze comes in through the door every time someone enters or exits, but it hardly bothers him. Guang Hong is a warm, comforting presence beside him, emanating the familiar scent of omega and new baby.

If only Guang Hong could keep his mouth shut. A few moments later, he whispers, “Did you know you can fly from Montreal to Colorado Springs in less than half the time it takes to fly here from Saint Petersburg?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Yuri asks.

“Just that if you and JJ start dating…”

Yuri chokes on nothing and lurches up. He rounds on Guang Hong, who lets out a bright peel of laughter and jumps off of the bench to avoid Yuri’s retaliatory punch.

“Two seconds ago, you were busting my ass about a one night stand,” Yuri hisses, as low as possible while still being heard.

Guang Hong grins, standing far enough away to remain out of reach. “I don’t think you can call it a one night stand if it happened twice.”

“Now you want me to date that obnoxious fucker?”

“I was just thinking, we could see each other more often!”

Yuri slouches down on the bench and extends his leg to aim a kick for Guang Hong’s shin. Guang Hong laughs again and hops backward just as Leo comes up to sling an arm around him, which results in Guang Hong settling into his side.

“Table’s ready,” Leo says.

Guang Hong makes a nauseating show of pressing several sweet kisses against the side of Leo’s face. Yuri gags but climbs off of the bench to follow them, and if he happens to step on the back of Guang Hong’s shoes a couple of times while they make their way to the table, it’s far less than Guang Hong deserves for shooting Yuri suggestive looks over his shoulder when JJ falls into step beside him.

A hand comes to rest against Yuri’s back as they weave their way through the crowd.

Yuri ignores it.

He doesn’t meet JJ’s eye. He doesn’t react to JJ’s warm smile. He doesn’t _encourage_ any of it.

But he goes along with it, and he thinks, secretly, that it actually isn't so bad.

* * *

[A selfie taken of Guang Hong, Leo, Yuri, JJ, Mickey, and Emil gathered around the table at dinner. Yuri and Mickey look unamused, but the other four grin broadly.]

**43,681 likes**

**+guanghongji+** Mini reunion with @leo_de_la_iglesia @yuri_plisetsky @mickey-crispino @_emil_nekola_ and @Jjleroy!15 #fun #friends #reunion #adulting #winners #gpf #coloradosprings

 **phichit+chu** Just like the old days!  
**christophe-gc** ❤  
**mila-babicheva** I miss you guys!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva You could have been here, but…  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Your bitterness is not attractive at all  
**yuri_plisetsky** PS the facial hair makes JJ look old  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky No it doesn’t  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 You look ancient  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsy You’ll lose your pretty baby face one day  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Yeah when I’m decomposing in my grave  
  
DECEMBER 10


	2. Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of sitting, talking, and drinking wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So more time has passed between updates than I anticipated. That happens a lot with me. In my defense, I _have_ been writing, I just wrote a ton, kept writing, and couldn’t seem to stop. This is actually less than half of what I had for the second chapter, but I got impatient to post something, so I’m splitting it. (That happens a lot with me, too.) The rest will come along once I finish the scene I’m currently working on. After that, I might go back to Cast Me Gently for a while, because I’m watching the Olympics and getting hella inspired again. (But who knows, honestly. I’m a fickle writer.)
> 
>  **PS:** I dropped the rating from Explicit to Mature. There’s definitely going to be sex in this fic, I just don’t think I write anything graphic enough to really warrant the Explicit rating??? Idk I could be wrong. I’ll raise it again if anyone complains, but I seriously doubt that will happen.

"But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,  
And it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.  
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.  
Baby, sometimes love just ain't enough."

\- ["Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" by Patty Smyth and Don Henley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LQNTCdcKf60)

* * *

  

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home          [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)          Cats          Personal          Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **FUCK MY LIFE**
> 
> POSTED ON 10 DECEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> I have the worst friends.
> 
> Except I don’t. Which is why they’re the worst. That makes sense, doesn’t it? I don’t know. They’re like my family — they annoy the shit out of me, but for some reason I like being around them. I guess that’s what happens when a bitch hangs around with nice people.
> 
> Why are they so nice? Why can’t they be douchebags like the rest of the world? Why do they think I’m fun to hang out with? Why do they care so much? What did I do to make them like me?
> 
> Fuck, I don’t know. I’m not sweet. I’m not cute. I’m not particularly considerate. I’m not funny. (Jk, I’m hilarious.) (Jk jk, I’m not.) I’m not smart. I’m literally only good at maybe two things. Or three? I feel like cooking doesn’t count since that’s more of a survival thing. I’m not easygoing. I’m not adventurous. I’m not the person you want to ask for advice. (I am so fucking stupid. You don’t even know. What the fuck have I done? My life is a shitshow right now.)
> 
> I’m mean and cranky and selfish. I make stupid mistakes because I don’t bother to think things through half the time. It’s a mess. There’s a very good chance I’ll end up dragging someone else into it with me. I have no idea how I haven’t fucked up badly enough that everyone decides I’m not worth the effort.
> 
> Do I even have any redeeming qualities? I guess I have a good work ethic. It’s good to be disciplined, isn’t it? Maybe I’m loyal. Or it could just be that I’m stubborn as fuck. Those are two different things, right? One of my friends told me they like that I’m honest. But I’m really not honest at all. I’m periodically blunt. Sometimes I don’t care what people think when I say things. Other times I care too much and I clam up. And other times I just don’t think at all. It depends on the subject. The more personal it is, the less likely I am to comment. Especially about _feelings_.
> 
> Fuck, feelings are awful. I hate feelings. _So_ much. Why do I have to have feelings? Life would be easier if I didn’t. I wouldn’t have to constantly resist the urge to scream. Or pull my hair out. Or bash my head against the wall.
> 
> WHAT IF I HIT MY HEAD SO HARD I GET BRAIN DAMAGE AND DON’T HAVE FEELINGS ANYMORE????? WOULDN’T THAT BE GREAT?????????
> 
> Brb while I conduct this experiment.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Friends

 

* * *

 

[A picture of a glass half full of red wine.]

 **yuri_plisetsky** Yes please #wine #lifesaver #onetruelove #yurixwine #otp #secondglass #howtobemyfriend #thebestfoodgroup #fuckyeah #noregrets #tipsy

**15,057 likes**

**mila-babicheva** Wine drunk Yuri = the best Yuri  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Fuck you I am NOT drunk  
**v-orlov** Don’t embarrass yourself  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov I will block you  
**v-nikiforov** Mix it with vodka and see what happens  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Who actually does that?????  
**Jjleroy!15** @v-nikiforov @yuri_plisetsky It’s called a brutal hammer and it’s awful  
**yuri_plisetksy** @v-nikiforov @Jjleroy!15 Wtf why????????  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky You should try it  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov You give terrible advice why are you a parent?????  
**lilia_baranovskaya** -_-  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya WINE IS FRUIT AND FRUIT BELONGS IN MY DIET  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya ALSO YOU WERE DRINKING WITH YAKOV  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya LET ME LIVE MY LIFE  
  
DECEMBER 10

 

* * *

 

Miraculously, Yuri doesn’t regret going to dinner.

The ambience of the restaurant is as trite as he expected. The wooden beams and paneling continue throughout most of the interior, and where there isn’t wood, there’s rustic stonework. The tables are scratched and dented in a way that looks purposeful, with a number of round water stains that could either be decorative or the result of normal wear and tear. Not only are there birds and animal heads mounted on the walls, but every last one of the chandeliers is constructed from antlers. It’s all objectively awful, yet strangely cozy in a “backwoods cabin” sort of way.

Yuri can hear Christmas music beneath the sounds of the crowd. Not the traditional kind sung by church choirs, or the jazzy kind that came into prominence decades ago, but the pop-country kind that would be completely intolerable if it was anything more than barely discernible background noise, drowned out by the swell of voices all around them.

They end up at a table by a great stone hearth, festooned with green garland and twinkling white lights. There’s already a fire roaring away. Yuri sits with his back to it. Being so near to it might have a positive effect on his ability to enjoy himself, as the heat of it surrounds him and lulls him into a state of relaxation.

Or maybe that’s the wine.

He has a glass in his hand five minutes after sitting down, thanks to a very prompt waiter. That first glass is empty before their appetizers even make it to the table. He steals a second glass from JJ, who hasn’t done more than casually sip at his own. Distracted by the conversation, JJ doesn’t even notice until it’s already half gone, when Yuri pulls out his phone to upload a picture onto Instagram. JJ laughs and doesn’t complain, just orders another one for himself the next time the waiter comes around. In his head, Yuri gives JJ a few extra “he’s not so bad” points for that.

By the time he finishes the second glass, Yuri feels the very beginnings of a mild but still pleasant buzz. Any lingering tension seeps out of him, and his mood brightens by a fraction. A sense of lightness overtakes his mind. All the bullshit he stressed about before leaving the hotel becomes nothing more than a series of unimportant details. It’s not enough that he feels too tipsy, but he’s cautious enough that he elects to hold off on another glass until he has more food in his stomach.

Yuri’s participation in the talk around the table remains limited at best. It’s how he prefers these gatherings to go. Never much of a conversationalist, Yuri has adapted to his growing friendships and the increase in social obligations that followed by becoming an observer. He sits. He drinks. He eats. He listens to the chatter. He might snort at a particularly funny joke, or correct a piece of inaccurate information, or even, on rare occasions, ask for clarification when he misses a key point or fails to make sense of a story, but he is not usually the one discussing recent gossip or sharing humorous stories with the rest of the table.

Tonight, something about the combination of heat and wine puts Yuri in a sentimental frame of mind. He looks around at his friends. He reflects upon their history. He marvels over their inclusiveness — that he actually has a place among them, when he made no effort to endear himself to them.

There’s Leo and Guang Hong, who were kind to him when he was young and awkward, and who helped him without a second thought, even when they had no personal investment in the outcome. They sit beside one another on Yuri’s left, exchanging the sort of casual touches that result from intimacy and frequent physical contact, and share soft, private looks only they understand.

There’s Mickey directly across from him, who, like Yuri, prefers to leave most of the talking to those who are better suited to it. He glowers when teased, and he issues various complaints depending on the topic, but Yuri can see right through him to another trait they share — that instinct to act aloof, and to pretend as if they aren’t happy to be included.

There’s Emil, too, who faces the world with wide smiles and gregarious laughter. He is, perhaps, the strangest of them, at least from Yuri’s perspective, because his kindness has no limits. Though he is full of enthusiasm, it rarely reaches the point of obnoxiousness, perhaps due to the fact that it seems so genuine. He is never without a kind word, and he manages to show his affection without smothering those in his company.

Then, of course, there's JJ.

Even with two other alphas in the immediate vicinity, and many more in the crowd, JJ is the one Yuri continues to be the most consistently aware of — from the pitch of his voice, to the strength of his scent. It could be a simple matter of proximity; JJ has been directly beside him all evening. Yet, somehow, the effect seems even more distinct than that. JJ hasn’t even been dominating the conversation the way he used to years ago, but his presence there is no less commanding. He has always had a prominent place in Yuri’s consciousness, whether or not Yuri was prepared to accept it. These days, Yuri isn’t sure he could ignore JJ even if he wanted to.

Yuri watches him with an intensity that can’t possibly go unnoticed. He makes a careful study of the expressions that cross JJ’s face, searching for any subtle changes that might imply that JJ’s carefree demeanor is just a front, but there’s nothing unusual about his behavior. None of his smiles look strained. There’s no tension around his eyes. His posture remains loose and open. JJ laughs, and it doesn’t sound forced. He’s clearly enjoying himself. He teases and tells jokes the way he always has, and he shares amusing anecdotes about his band and his fans, and his friends and family in Canada.

He seems happy, which wouldn’t normally be a cause for confusion, but Yuri finds it troubling under the circumstances.

Shouldn’t he be upset? Or ashamed? Or frustrated? Shouldn’t he be dismayed by Isabella’s departure?

He’s still wearing his wedding ring. Yuri noticed it as soon as JJ took his gloves off, and he hasn’t been able to put it out of his mind since. It’s a simple band without any adornment, but the platinum looks striking against JJ’s skin tone.

The only sign that something might be off is that, since they’ve been at the restaurant, no one has mentioned Isabella at all — not even Emil, who makes a point to ask after the rest of their absent friends.

“How are Viktor and Yuuri?”

Yuri is startled out of his musings by a gentle kick to his foot, courtesy of Guang Hong. It takes glancing around the table to see everyone staring at him for Yuri to realize the question was directed at him.

Which makes sense, seeing as he’s the only one who sees Viktor and Yuuri often. The wine and the warmth of the fire must be making his brain a little sluggish. Yuri tries to cover his distraction by reaching for more of the spinach and artichoke dip.

“Obnoxiously cheerful,” he says. “Karina might be able to come home soon.”

“Already?” Leo asks with some surprise.

“Yeah, she’s been improving a lot. Breathing without any help a few days after she was born, and she was off the IV last weekend. All she has left in the feeding tube. Once her weight gain stays consistent and she’s taking more milk from Viktor or a bottle, they’ll take her off of it and should be able to discharge her soon after.”

“Wow,” Guang Hong says. “That’s so exciting!”

“How early was she?” JJ asks.

“Almost seven weeks.”

Emil scoops more cheese fries onto his appetizer plate. “Do they know why her heart rate dropped so low?”

“No,” Yuri says. “They ran a shit load of tests but haven’t found anything. I think they might want her to see a cardiologist for a while after she’s released, but so far everything seems normal and there haven’t been any permanent issues.”

Guang Hong lets out a happy sigh. “It’s amazing how everything worked out. I’m sure it was scary, but when you think about it... Viktor just happened to have an appointment that day?”

“Karina’s got herself a guardian angel,” JJ says.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “It was just a stroke of luck.”

Emil’s voice goes a little disbelieving when he says, “It’s so weird thinking about Viktor with a baby. Yuuri I can see, but Viktor was always so…”

“Self-absorbed?” Yuri suggests, chewing another bite of toasted bread and dip.

Emil laughs, then says, “I was thinking more like otherworldly. You know, like you wouldn’t expect him to do the things the rest of us mortals do.”

“I don’t know,” Guang Hong cuts in, “I felt sort of like a god when Luna was born.”

Just like that, Yuri settles back into observing. The conversation continues along the same topic, but he’s content to watch and listen as Guang Hong recounts the last five weeks of life with a newborn.

With so many of Yuri’s friends now adapting to their lives as parents, this type of discussion has grown commonplace. Even so, there’s something sort of peculiar about it. He’s seen all of these people in various states of drunkenness. He’s watched them embarrass themselves at formal events. He’s witnessed their lewd behavior at several different clubs. He’s played suggestive games with them, and he can attest to their immaturity. At this time last year, the most prevalent pictures on their phones were those taken at parties, competitions, and tourist attractions.

Now here they sit, talking about feeding tubes and spit up, and whether or not co-sleeping is an accepted practice in their respective cultures.

“It’s sad how many people like to pretend their babies sleep in a crib in a separate room, when I’m pretty sure a majority of them are lying,” Leo says.

“It’s a shame thing,” JJ replies. “People get hung up on what it means to be a perfect parent. They hear bedsharing can be dangerous, or they go along with that myth about the baby putting strain on parental intimacy, and they don’t want to be judged for doing it.”

Guang Hong looks aghast. “I can’t imagine leaving Luna in a different room all night.”

“Yeah, I’ve had Melody in with me since she was born. She’s only ever in a different room if she’s staying with someone else.”

There it is again — that omission of Isabella. JJ’s wording doesn’t include her, and no one questions her presence, nor do they inquire about her own experiences on the subject as a new mother. Yuri would expect her exclusion to be a cause for confusion among a group of people who’ve grown used to having her around, but he doesn’t see a single sign that any of their friends are puzzled by it.

All of them must know already. If that’s the case, they would have to have been told recently — probably sometime this week while Yuri was busy avoiding everyone. Mila and Sara wouldn’t be far behind if Emil and Mickey were made aware, and Mila wouldn’t be able to stop herself from spilling that bit of gossip to Yuri if her life depended on it.

There’s a part of Yuri that wants to ask right then and there. It isn’t fair that he’s been left in the dark. More than anyone else, doesn’t he have a right to that information? What kind of game is JJ playing by not telling him? Does he think it’s funny? Is it some sort of weird power trip? Does he get off on Yuri being clueless?

But Yuri doesn’t say anything, because doing so might risk the exposure of their relationship — or whatever this thing between them is — and that isn’t something he’s ready to publicly acknowledge yet.

Instead, he does the only other thing he can think of. While his friends continue to busily converse, Yuri pulls up JJ’s Instagram on his phone and tries to piece everything together on his own. Not that he hasn’t already done so since seeing Isabella over Skype, but now that he has a rough time frame in mind, he delves into it with renewed vigor.

Most of JJ’s recent posts are behind-the-scenes pictures during competitions, short videos from practice sessions, and promotional material for his band or assorted charity events, with images from different photoshoots scattered throughout. It’s all suspiciously professional, especially for someone who loves to overshare as much as JJ does. One could argue that he’s simply been too busy, but it seems to Yuri as if JJ’s been making an effort to guard his private life by putting more focus on his career.

There’s a single picture of Melody — the only one Yuri has ever seen — posted on 17 June. It shows JJ peacefully gazing down at her while he holds her, just a newborn then, in his arms.

 _“I thought I knew everything about love,”_ it says. _"_ _One look in her eyes, and I realized how arrogant that assumption was. Please allow me another unironic use of #blessed.”_

Searching further back turns up nothing about Isabella. No pictures of her in the hospital. No updates about her pregnancy. No snapshots of her and JJ together on the anniversary of their wedding. Just post after post of skating, music, modeling, and charity. Yuri scrolls beyond posts from the Olympics, back to the beginning of the year, then to the end of 2021.

There, in mid-December of last year, he finds the pregnancy announcement — a picture of knitted baby booties fashioned into a pair of ice skates, with the caption, _“June 2022.”_

It isn’t until he’s worked his way back to the beginning of October that he finally finds a picture of Isabella. It was taken outside on a sunny morning, among the changing leaves. In it, Isabella’s hair is longer than she wears it now, and she shows a restrained smile while she fiddles with the “JJ” charm on her necklace.

 _“Isn’t she beautiful?”_ the caption says.

That’s it. Just that picture, that caption, and then nothing. Not a glimpse. Not a word. Just professionalism in the year that followed.

It was four months before the Olympics that JJ’s personal posts came to an end. That, if nothing else, seems to suggest that, whatever caused the breakdown of JJ’s marriage, it happened before Beijing.

Suddenly, there’s a gentle breath against Yuri’s ear, and JJ’s voice whispering, “You’re not as subtle as you like to think you are.”

Yuri manages to restrict his startled reaction to a slight flinch. He shuts his phone off and drops it into his lap, then turns a glare on JJ, who shows him a lopsided smile that’s too wide to be considered a smirk, but doesn’t quite reach the full extent of a grin.

JJ leans back in to murmur, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve gone through your account to try and figure out what the deal is with you and Bek.”

His lips brush against Yuri’s ear ever so slightly. Yuri sits motionless in an effort to control himself. It would be far too easy to angle himself closer. He imagines what it would be like to feel the scratch of stubble against his cheek again, or to touch his nose to JJ’s neck and inhale deeply of his scent, which seems to emanate outward and wrap around Yuri — deeply tantalizing, but with a trace of contentment beneath it, as if the satisfaction JJ feels in knowing of Yuri’s attraction goes beyond physical pleasure.

Before Yuri can do anything, the remainder of their food arrives. The burger Yuri wanted, overlarge and sure to wreak havoc on his diet, appears before him with an enormous helping of fries. JJ pulls away, settling back into his seat with a smile and a word of thanks for their waiter, but the charged air between them doesn’t recede. Beneath the table, JJ’s foot nudges Yuri’s own, then stays there, grounding Yuri before his thoughts can carry him away again.

On Yuri’s other side, Guang Hong shoves a glass of water his way, then quietly mocks him, “Drink if you’re so thirsty.”

Yuri does so simply to shock himself back into a properly functioning state. The glass is brimming with too much ice, and the water is freezing as a result.

Whether or not it works could be debated. Yuri’s head certainly feels clearer, but he is no less conscious of JJ beside him. Obstinate as ever, Yuri grabs JJ’s arm to give it a tug before JJ can start cutting into his steak. It isn’t entirely necessary in order to gain JJ’s attention, but after two glasses of wine, the part of Yuri that just might want to feel JJ’s bicep has risen far enough beneath his denial that he’s bound to have one or two slip ups.

“Let me see your phone,” Yuri demands.

JJ doesn’t try to argue, nor does he question why. He reaches into the coat hanging from the back of his chair and pulls his phone out, passing it to Yuri after unlocking it.

Yuri forces an impassive look onto his face instead of allowing his satisfaction to bleed through. He sets JJ’s phone on the table, and he spends some time going through the collection of photos while he eats.

Almost every picture is Melody — a fact Yuri faces with some relief. He didn’t actually think JJ would spurn or disregard her, but his relative silence on the subject certainly contributed to some apprehension.

Melody looks like Isabella in the eyes, except for the color; they’re still the newborn blue-gray. She’s pale like her mother, too, and she has Isabella’s delicate nose, but the resemblance to JJ is almost uncanny when Yuri sees her smile. In several of the more recent pictures, she’s grinning widely enough that Yuri can see her first two teeth coming up from the center of her lower gums. Considering she’s only just about to turn six months old, she has a surprising amount of hair on her head. It’s clear JJ enjoys dressing her up, because she frequently sports colorful headscarves and headbands with large bows to match her stylish clothing.

She’s often caught drooling, at least in the pictures dated within the last two months, but before that her secretion of bodily fluids on camera was minimal, aside from the occasional spit up stain. Being JJ’s child, it isn’t much of a shock that Melody holds the distinction of being one of the most photogenic babies Yuri’s ever seen. She maintains good eye contact, and her smiles are infectious. In several pictures, she sits with her feet daintily crossed at the ankle. In others, she shows the camera a distraught pout — which would be heartbreaking if it wasn’t so fucking adorable.

There’s are videos, too. Yuri has to turn the volume up and lean a little closer to hear them over all the noise around him. There’s one from just over a week ago, of Melody on her stomach on the floor, dragging herself forward with her arms while failing to fully utilize her legs. There are videos of JJ singing to her — trendy pop songs, Disney music, or songs in French that Yuri doesn’t know — while Melody makes noises that are more distinctive than newborn coos and sighs, but haven’t yet reached the point of rapid babbling. Other pictures and videos show one or both of JJ’s parents playing with her. A number of JJ’s siblings also make regular appearances. In a few more, Yuri sees the woman he spied over FaceTime earlier, with a man whose features share similarities with Isabella.

The more Yuri delves into JJ’s life, the more confused he becomes. Isabella never turns up, but the man who looks somewhat like her and the woman from FaceTime could easily be her parents. Yuri goes as far back as the day of Melody’s birth, but Isabella is entirely absent. It almost seems as if she has no significant role in Melody’s life at all.

Resentment burns low, but unmistakably present, deep within Yuri’s chest.

He glances up to find JJ watching him. Not with sadness or regret, but with amusement touched by pride.

“Congratulations,” Yuri says, though he makes sure not to sound too enthusiastic. “This baby is the single greatest thing you’ve ever done.”

“I don’t know,” JJ replies. The corners of his mouth curl with smug satisfaction when he continues, “I thought beating Yuuri and Bek to Olympic gold back in Pyeongchang was kind of cool.”

Yuri scowls at the reminder that he didn’t make the podium himself during the individual event that year.

Across the table, Mickey takes a break from his smoked pork chop and mashed potatoes to stare at Yuri and say, “You’re oddly invested.”

He sounds a bit bewildered. At first, Yuri worries that Mickey might have picked up on the attraction that still saturates the air between him and JJ. Neither of them have been particularly careful about hiding it, what with JJ’s touching and Yuri’s rather obvious staring, but Yuri was at least hopeful that he’d managed to keep any of his interest off of his face.

Yuri takes a large bite of his burger to cover his unease. He doesn’t wait to swallow before issuing a muffled response around his food. “What do you mean?”

“Just that you’re a lot more enthusiastic about everyone’s kids than I thought you’d be.”

A large, animated smile spreads across Emil’s face. “Does Yuri Plisetsky want to be someone’s mama?”

Then Yuri has five pairs of eyes on him, all staring with poorly repressed interest. Though his initial discomfort fades somewhat, it’s replaced by an immediate feeling of indignation.

He swallows heavily to force his food down a suddenly dry throat, and says, “So what if I do?”

Denying that, at least, isn’t something he cares to continue, not when he can barely suppress the desire. It’s always there, even during those moments in which it’s not at the forefront of his brain. He can alleviate it for a short period of time by distracting himself with other concerns, but it inevitably creeps back up on him. It’s become so deeply ingrained over the last four years, Yuri would be hard-pressed to believe it wasn’t something he’d experienced before if he didn’t actually remember what it felt like not to be burdened by it.

Yuri faces his friends with dogged defensiveness. Fortunately, the only one to show any potentially negative reaction is Mickey, whose surprise quickly morphs into confusion.

“You should do it!” Emil says, as buoyant and encouraging as he always is.

“That requires a willing partner,” Yuri reminds him.

“Or a sperm donor,” Leo says.

Yuri frowns deeply.

It isn’t the thought itself that he hates. It’s how the thought seeps into his brain and awakens the voice in his head that says, “Actually, I could totally do that.” Then he experiences a spike of enthusiasm so strong, he has to glare down at his half finished burger to keep any of it from showing on his face.

Joking about it is one thing. Seriously considering it is another. Since realizing there probably isn’t anything more for him and Otabek, Yuri has spent his time purposefully _not_ considering it, because once it’s in his head, he knows he won’t be able to force the thought back out.

“I’ll give you some of mine!” Emil exclaims. He sounds delighted by the idea, as if nothing would make him happier than to see one of his friends make their secret dreams come true.

Mickey bristles and chokes out, “No, you will _not_.”

“Why not? It’s like donating blood!”

“Except it’s not at all like donating blood!” Mickey seethes. “You’re not keeping someone alive, you’re creating an entirely new person who carries your DNA!”

The bickering continues, but Yuri pays very little attention to it. He glances at Guang Hong, who smiles and gives his arm a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, you know.”

Yuri can’t agree, even if he’s already accepted that a baby is something he wants, even if he’s willing to sacrifice the physically intimate parts of his relationship with Otabek to make it happen.

It doesn’t _feel_ okay. It feels awful, because it’s so steeped in jealousy and despair — watching his friends gain the experience one by one, always with the thought in the back of his head that he might not get the chance, that Georgi’s kids and Karina might be the closest he ever gets. Yuri never wanted to feel this way. He tried to stop it, but the more he ignored it, the worse it grew. He’d change it if he could, force it out of his mind or bury it so far down it wouldn’t be able to torment him anymore.

Beneath the table, a hand settles on his thigh, right above his knee. Yuri turns from Guang Hong to JJ, who smiles softly and applies gentle pressure to Yuri’s leg.

It’s far more comforting than Yuri wants it to be. He has to tear his eyes away before he’s tempted to lean close. Instead, he reaches for JJ’s wine again in the absence of his own. If this isn’t a sign that he should be well into his third glass by now, then signs are bullshit and he’s been right to challenge their existence all along.

No one questions him further. If Yuri has anything complimentary to say about this group in particular, aside from all of his previous observations, it’s that they can usually tell when he doesn’t want to talk about something, and they don’t push him until he’s ready. It isn’t like being around Mila or Viktor, who seem to think they’re doing him a favor when they pester him about things. Even Emil, happy though he is to ensure that everyone else is in high spirits, knows when to leave Yuri to his own thoughts for a while. None of them leave him out of the conversation, but they seem to understand enough that they don’t pry.

Guang Hong offers Yuri a few more reassuring squeezes as they continue eating. He must be making an effort to regulate his scent, because Yuri begins to pick up on it more than before. It’s soothing enough that Yuri’s able to put a temporary damper on his pessimism, instead of bringing the mood around the table down with his sudden melancholy. It doesn’t make him feel any less troubled, but it serves as something of an anchor. So long as he has that to focus on, Yuri won’t be at as much of a risk of being carried away by his thoughts.

And JJ — damn him and his annoyingly captivating presence — has a similar effect. His hand stays on Yuri’s thigh long enough that Yuri knows JJ’s willing to listen if and when he wants to talk. Then it slips away, and JJ goes back to offering comfort with his foot pressed against Yuri’s own. JJ could make it provocative if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He only interrupts the surprisingly peaceful gesture with a few intermittent nudges, as if to silently ask, “You okay?”

Yuri doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pull his foot away either. He drinks more wine, and when their plates are cleared away, he orders the chocolate cake that was included in his dinner agreement with Guang Hong.

By the time their night draws to a close, two hours have passed since their arrival, and Yuri is feeling both pleasantly full and increasingly drowsy. There’s some good natured bickering about how the bill should be split, before JJ confesses to slipping the waiter his credit card when no one was looking.

Just as they’re preparing to leave, a girl approaches from a table nearby. She looks a little flustered and shy as she stares at JJ and asks, “I’m sorry, but—are you—is it okay—I mean, you’re—” but she can’t seem to finish.

By the fervent look on her face, as well as the fact that she doesn’t seem to recognize anyone else at the table, Yuri assumes she’s a fan of JJ the fashion designer and singer/songwriter rather than JJ the figure skater.

Of course JJ indulges her. He smiles wide and says, “Absolutely,” before rising from his chair for a selfie and an autograph, even if it means a few more people rush forward for one too — including their waiter and two of the hostesses.

Yuri wants to be annoyed. He isn’t. JJ is extremely proficient with the whole thing. He smiles and poses, he signs his name and exchanges a few kind words, he expresses his gratitude, then he politely excuses himself, and instead of lamenting his departure or trying to monopolize his time, his fans voice their thank yous and fall back to give him space. It’s actually sort of remarkable, how considerate they are; Yuri’s used to the Angels, who often make a nuisance of themselves when they vie for his attention.

Leo chuckles and teases JJ, “If they knew how awkward you used to be when you were twelve, they’d probably be a little less in love with you.”

“Everyone has an awkward phase,” JJ argues cheerily.

They collect their things — sliding phones into pockets, tugging on gloves and scarves in preparation for the cold. JJ takes the purple coat from the back of Yuri’s chair and hands it to him when Yuri stands, which Yuri finds unexpectedly restrained of him. JJ’s normal gentlemanly behavior would suggest he’d help Yuri _into_ the coat. There’s a slight twinkle in JJ’s eye when he does it, and his smile looks playful, like he means to say, “Look, I can hold myself back for you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at him, and he knocks his shoulder against JJ’s arm. JJ lets Yuri move ahead of him, then brings up the rear as they make their way out of the restaurant. Yuri slows his pace enough that they’re nearly side by side. As they pass through the door, JJ holds it open, and his hand returns to Yuri’s back.

Yuri hates that he doesn’t hate it.

 

* * *

 

[A short video of JJ, Leo, Guang Hong, Emil, and Mickey singing “Silent Night” in Leo’s car. They each sing in a different language, nearly drowning out the English version that spills from the radio. Yuri doesn’t join in, choosing to roll his eyes and make a variety of disgusted noises instead.]

 **Jjleroy!15** Living out my boy band dreams with @leo_de_la_iglesia @+guanghongji+ @mickey-crispino and @_emil_nekola_, featuring scoffs and glares from @yuri_plisetsky. For some reason, he still thinks we believe him when he acts annoyed.

**107,452 likes**

**phichit+chu** You just need an ice or skating themed name and you’re ready for your debut  
**v-nikiforov** I want to be in the boy band!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov Too bad you’re tone deaf  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky I don’t have to let you hold my baby you know  
**sara-crispino** I’m surprised you even got Mickey to sing along  
**mila-babicheva** Clearly you didn’t give Yuri enough wine  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila_babicheva At least I can still drink  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky At least I’m getting laid on a regular basis  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila_babicheva Ew no one needs to know that you whore  
  
DECEMBER 10

 

* * *

  
Yuri’s questions are finally answered soon after they return to the hotel.

Once they’ve waved their goodbyes to Guang Hong and Leo, JJ takes Yuri by the arm in the lobby. He smiles easily, but tones down the self-satisfied aura when he asks, “Are you good for another glass of wine?”

Yuri snorts. He manages to keep his expression impassive even while a shot of anticipation courses through him. “You underestimate my tolerance for alcohol if you think I’m not.”

Two and a half glasses with dinner have left him a little foggy, but not seriously impaired in any way. One more won’t hurt much.

They part ways with Mickey and Emil, then head into the lounge just off of the lobby. Yuri makes a hasty survey of the area to ensure they’re safe from any undesired annoyances in the form of coaches, younger competitors, or Angels, but he doesn’t see any immediate cause for concern. No one pulls out their cameras when they enter, so Yuri assumes they’re in the clear as far as their fans are concerned, and Yakov and Lilia are nowhere to be seen at this hour. Knowing what Yuri knows of them, they’re probably watching television up in the room they pretend not to share.

After ordering their drinks at the bar, Yuri and JJ find an empty booth to slide into, not totally removed from wandering eyes, but secluded enough to offer some privacy.

The lounge is still moderately populated at this time of night. Most of the patrons appear to be middle aged, and thoroughly occupied with their own private affairs. The dim lighting lends a certain intimacy to the setting — formal but not romantic, thanks in part to the relatively simple décor. It seems to Yuri that he can’t escape the Christmas music no matter where he goes, but at least in the lounge it’s little more than the quiet tinkling of a piano.

Yuri sips his wine and eyes JJ across the table. JJ doesn’t look nervous, or agitated in any way. He settles into his seat with an ease Yuri has frequently struggled to display in a public setting. Whether that poise is genuine or not remains to be seen. Yuri has watched JJ crack under pressure. It doesn’t happen often, and JJ has always recovered from it quickly, but he is not entirely immune, despite what his bold behavior might otherwise suggest.

JJ doesn’t immediately launch into the conversation the way Yuri was expecting. Either he’s unsure how to begin, or he wants to give Yuri the opportunity to open the discussion.

So Yuri spits out, “You’re divorced.”

It’s more of an accusation than an observation. Yuri doesn’t make any effort to control the tone of his voice. He lets JJ hear all of the confusion and frustration, and the anger — that half of their friends seem to know already, except Yuri; that it’s been months since they fell into bed together the first time, and JJ apparently didn’t think it was important to reveal that little detail until now.

JJ’s answering smile is soft and small. “Not yet. The divorce won’t go through until we’ve been separated for a year.”

“And when is that?” Yuri demands.

“Officially, we’ve been separated since the first of February,” JJ says, “but we were over by November of last year.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow suspiciously as he tries to determine whether or not he should trust that. JJ has never been one for blatant dishonesty. Then again, he also never seemed to be the secretive type, yet here they are — a secret to one another, one they’ve both kept for almost a year.

Yuri glances at JJ’s left hand. They’ve shed their outwear, so the platinum ring is once again on display.

“You’re still wearing your ring,” Yuri observes. He tells himself the only reason there’s any bitterness in his voice is because the presence of the ring seems deceptive.

JJ fingers the ring with his thumb. “Bella and I have been keeping it quiet.”

“Is she wearing hers?”

Yuri didn’t check over Skype. He should have. Both of her hands were in plain view over Otabek’s shoulders. Somehow he didn’t think to look, and that irritates him, though he was understandably distracted at the time.

He isn’t even sure why it matters, except that it seems to imply a lingering affection — and loyalty. Every time Yuri sees JJ’s ring, he’s reminded of Isabella.

She and JJ seemed like an ideal match. Not that Yuri was ever personally invested in the state of their marriage until recently, but he wasn’t so biased against them in his youth that he couldn’t see how well they fit together. He simply chose to view it as another source of annoyance, one more negative to hold against them. Rather like Viktor and Yuuri, JJ and Isabella gave off an air of perfection that grated on Yuri’s nerves. They were sickeningly happy together, and they projected an image of mutual respect and devotion that earned the admiration of the world.

In the brief silence that follows, Yuri worries that his question seems petulant or defensive. Indeed, JJ’s smile widens ever so slightly — not one of his smug grins, but still touched by amusement.

“It doesn’t mean anything anymore, if that’s what you’re worried about,” JJ says, in a low tone of voice that sounds as if it’s meant to be reassuring.

Yuri busies himself with his wine. It might have been a successful effort to maintain his antipathy, if only he sipped at it instead of swallowing deeply. “Why would I be worried about that?”

JJ could easily start teasing him. He would have years ago, if he so much as _thought_ Yuri might be leaving him an opening. It was aggravating, how effortlessly JJ managed to read his every mood. He knew exactly which buttons to push to set Yuri off, and he learned over time, with surprising efficiency, how to smooth things over before he went too far.

He says nothing now. Not about their attraction, or either of those nights in Beijing. Not even a word about the continuation of their relationship, though Yuri can feel the subject hanging between them.

JJ’s restraint goes a long way in confirming how serious he is about this conversation. Yuri’s suspicions begin to subside as a result. He can trust that JJ intends to face him with respect, if nothing else.

There’s less of a hard edge in Yuri’s voice when he asks, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I would’ve told you in Beijing last month, but you decided you didn’t want to talk.”

Yuri lifts his gaze from his wine glass to glare at JJ. “What the fuck does everyone have against texting me? _Beka_ doesn’t text me about your wife. _You_ don’t text me about your wife.”

JJ’s expression falls. His mouth lowers into a small frown when he asks, “Why would I leave something that important to a text message?”

“You could have called then.”

“Considering lack of communication was one of the problems Bella and I had, I really would rather discuss this in person.”

“Except by waiting all this time you’ve still failed to communicate with _me_ ,” Yuri counters. “You let me think you were having an affair. _Both_ times. You’ve had ten months since the Olympics to tell me the truth. You could have said you had something important to talk about. We could have made time to discuss it. If you wanted to do it face to face, we could have used Skype or FaceTime.”

JJ looks startled by Yuri’s argument, then deeply apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The response is short, but firm enough that it sounds genuine. JJ doesn’t dispute it or try to shift the blame onto Yuri for avoiding him. That part of the issue probably won’t remain unspoken forever, but rather than escalate the disagreement by bringing it up now, JJ takes what Yuri says, seems to accept where he went wrong, and he makes his amends.

It throws Yuri completely off track. He was prepared to bicker. For a moment, he can’t think of a way to continue. He falls silent instead, and he glances down while he picks at the tablecloth for lack of something to do with his hands.

“To be honest,” JJ begins again, a little slower this time, “I thought what happened at the Olympics was just going to be a one time thing, so telling you didn’t seem important. Then it happened again, and… I don’t know, maybe I was a little nervous about how you’d react.”

“I had to find out from your _wife_ , JJ.”

Yuri means for it to sound like another argument. It doesn’t. He sounds uncomfortable and strained.

JJ’s answer is no less contrite than before. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Yuri clears his throat, but he doesn’t quite manage to regain his indifference. “So it didn’t have anything to do with me.”

“I wouldn’t say that. My first mistake was flirting with you.”

Yuri’s eyes flick back up, and he glares darkly.

That it was meaningless sex doesn’t matter to him. He’s convinced himself that he isn’t looking for something particularly significant between them. The delusions he once had in regards to his relationship with Otabek haven’t shifted to JJ. Yuri knew what he wanted out of this arrangement when it began, and he _thinks_ he knows what he wants out of it now, if it happens to continue. His aspirations haven’t changed.

But with Isabella no longer a factor to the same level she was before, Yuri will not accept being JJ’s mistake.

The quirk of JJ’s mouth looks rueful when he clarifies, “My first mistake as a husband was flirting with you.”

It isn’t a wholly satisfying thing to hear, but Yuri accepts it and covers what remains of his dissatisfaction with another sip of wine. “I thought she didn’t give a shit about that.”

“She didn’t, until it stopped pissing you off as much.”

“She didn’t trust you,” Yuri concludes.

JJ pauses for a moment. He seems to turn that statement over in his head. “Maybe not. She says she did, but I know you made her uneasy. She was pretty convinced you were going to try something when you started flirting back.”

Predictably, Yuri’s denial springs into action. “I didn’t flirt back.”

“Really? Not at Worlds a few years ago? Or the rest of that year?”

The accusation, though spoken with gentleness, increases the tension between them. Yuri glances away while he tries to process an appropriate response.

He can’t deny that he did it. He remembers it all too well. 2020 was a year packed full of drama, beginning with the World Championships in Montreal.

But it wasn’t entirely his fault. Yuri refuses to accept it. Isabella antagonized him for years. Did anyone honestly think he wouldn’t find some way to get back at her? Ignoring her never worked. The yelling and the insults never worked. She thought it was funny. She laughed at him. She never took him seriously.

So he forced her to. He determined the best possible way to piss her off — by tapping into his acting skills and flirting with JJ.

He’d touch JJ’s arm in the middle of a conversation, or he’d play with his own hair when he had JJ’s attention on him. He’d laugh at JJ’s stupid jokes, or smile and bite his lip like he was trying to be coy about it. He’d stand closer than necessary whenever Isabella wasn’t already clinging to JJ. He’d focus on manipulating his own scent, and with a goal in mind, it wasn’t too difficult to project something rich and enticing instead of the usual sharp annoyance.

It was, quite frankly, one of the most sickening things he’s ever done — not because of JJ, or the questionable morals behind it, but because Yuri couldn’t stand his own behavior.

“I only did that because she kept antagonizing me,” Yuri says.

“And you knew that would throw her off,” JJ agrees. “So you did it again at Skate Canada, and again at NHK, every time she was around, until the Grand Prix—”

“Okay, I get it,” Yuri cuts him off.

That was the ultimate shitshow, the 2020 Final. None of the drama made it out to the public, but behind the scenes was an utter mess. Isabella screamed at Yuri. Yuri screamed back. Otabek gave his “please stop instigating and be civil” talk, so Yuri screamed at him too, which earned Yuri one of those cold, dark glares and a week’s worth of tension. Yakov and Lilia berated Yuri for his behavior. Yuri ignored them. He put on the innocent act around JJ. Isabella screamed at Yuri again, and the cycle continued.

There JJ was all the while, stuck in the middle of the storm, seemingly helpless to stop either one of them. _“Yuri, please stop provoking my wife,”_ he’d say. Or, _“Please, Bella, this has gone on long enough.”_

Then, to cap it all off, JJ hurt his knee in the middle of the free skate. He couldn't even finish his program, he just limped off of the ice in front of a stunned crowd and disappeared into the back halls.

And that was the shittiest part of the whole thing, because it shouldn’t have happened. It could have been a fluke, sure, but Yuri can’t help but think that if JJ wasn’t distracted by the drama, if he wasn’t cracking under the stress of it, pulled in multiple different directions…

Yuri lost his rival that day. Two years worth of competitions and every victory since have felt distressingly hollow. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly sad and lonely, and lost without his friends, Yuri blames himself for all of it.

“It was a shit thing to do,” he says, then he pauses to swallow through the tightness in his throat. Even after, his voice is rough with strain. “I don’t need you to tell me that. I know I’m an asshole.”

“Hey…” JJ reaches across the table to put a soothing hand on top of Yuri’s. “What’s done is done. I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m just trying to explain. You were both unfair to each other, and I didn’t do enough to try and smooth things over.”

He sounds so forgiving. _Too_ forgiving, perhaps. Yuri wouldn’t be half as kind in JJ’s place. He wouldn’t speak so softly, or extend his scent in comfort. He wouldn’t touch JJ’s hand, or stroke his thumb along the skin of his wrist. He wouldn’t offer a gentle smile, or have so much sympathy in his eyes.

That lack of cynicism is almost unsettling.

Yuri doesn’t pull his hand away, but he still feels the need to clarify, “So it _is_ my fault you broke up.”

JJ’s smile turns incredulous, like Yuri’s missed the entire point. “No, what I’m trying to say is that me flirting with you and you and Bella fighting was an issue she and I never worked out. That was on me and Bella, not you. We didn’t talk about it, we just left it the way it was. It didn’t end our marriage, but we might have had a better chance of sorting out our other problems if we hadn’t let our relationship grow strained.”

It seems too easy, being let off the hook like that. Sure, what JJ’s saying makes sense, and it aligns with some of Yuri’s previous thoughts on the matter, but Yuri can’t squash the feeling that JJ’s offering him too much leniency.

“Then what happened?”

Now JJ’s mouth dips into another frown. His thumb runs along the side of Yuri’s wrist one last time before JJ takes his hand away. He leans back in his seat, and he falls silent as he seems to collect his thoughts. He sips at his wine. To Yuri, it looks like an effort to waste a little more time.

“There were a lot of things she and I didn’t talk about the way we should have,” JJ finally begins. “Bella felt… trapped, I guess? That doesn’t really sound right. Cornered, maybe. Being with me when I lived such a public life put a lot of pressure on her.”

“As if _you_ weren’t under any pressure,” Yuri grumbles.

“Well, yeah, but that was something I chose.”

“She married you. She chose it too.”

For a split second, JJ looks bewildered. Then he shakes his head ever so slightly and continues speaking in a calm, measured way. “Maybe what I should say is that she put a lot of pressure on _herself_. She was completely selfless. She supported my skating, my music, JJ Style, everything. She was involved with my fan club. She traveled with me constantly. She barely took any time for herself.”

“That’s her own fault,” Yuri argues.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was,” JJ counters. “Hers, mine, we both made mistakes. I don’t like speaking for her because I probably don’t do a very good job explaining the things she went through. She was stressed and overwhelmed. The attention got to her. Any criticism hurt her more than she let on. She tried _so hard_ to be perfect, but the more pressure she put on herself to project that image, the more tense things got between us.”

Yuri struggles not to roll his eyes. He’s sure JJ doesn’t expect him to have much sympathy for Isabella, but he should probably hold back what negative reactions he can, if only to make the conversation easier for the both of them.

Nothing JJ has to say could possibly give Yuri a more favorable opinion of Isabella. If anything, Yuri takes every word out of JJ’s mouth and twists it into another thing to hold against her. What did she think she was getting herself into when she married JJ? She knew the kind of life he led. She knew what his ambitions were long before she accepted his proposal, and she made the decision to follow him instead of having a life of her own back in Montreal. If it was too much for her, she should have made whatever changes were necessary to lessen the burden.

But she didn’t, because she was too concerned with her own image.

Yuri hides a frown behind another sip of his wine. He struggles to keep his mouth shut while JJ continues. All he wants to do is tear into Isabella for every single misstep.

“I was so caught up in myself, I didn’t even notice. Bella didn’t tell me how she felt until after I got injured.” How stupid could she be? “Even then, we didn’t talk about it as much as we should have.” Was she trying to sabotage her marriage? “She asked me to take some time off. I didn’t want to. I resented the hiatus, and I felt guilty for resenting it after everything she’d done for me, so I didn’t say anything. I thought I’d get over it, that taking a break would help in the long run.”

Silently, Yuri fumes. It was Isabella’s fault then, that JJ didn’t compete last season? Not because of his injury? He could have been there all along?

Yuri keeps his eyes lowered and goes back to picking at the tablecloth. His other hand remains firmly on his wine glass, gripping it like a lifeline.

“So there’s another one of my mistakes,” JJ says. “I wasn’t happy. I should have said something. We should have worked it out together. Instead, we just… did what we thought we had to. We thought the way to make things better was to sacrifice and move on, when really we should have been talking it through and compromising.”

“Then what?” Yuri asks. He doesn’t quite manage to free his voice of spite. “If you did what she wanted, why the fuck did she leave?”

“We decided to have a baby.”

It’s a terrible place to pause, but that’s exactly what JJ does. Yuri keeps his head lowered but turns his eyes back up to glare while JJ takes a long drink from his glass. JJ seems to be at a loss again when he sets it back down. For the first time since they slid into the booth, he looks mildly uncomfortable. He shifts in his seat. He clears his throat. He meets Yuri’s eyes and offers a wan smile

“Are you _trying_ to make me hate her more?” Yuri says.

JJ laughs, but it’s too quiet and weak to sound amused. “I don’t know what makes you think this is easy for me to talk about.”

He does look hurt now. He’s clearly making an effort to contain it, but Yuri can see the sadness in his eyes. There’s some tension there, finally. Try as JJ might to maintain his positive attitude, he can’t keep some of the grief from breaking through.

It’s a strange thing to see. Has there ever been an instance between them in which JJ has let his guard down so much? No specific memory comes to mind. Yuri has seen JJ upset before, but only from a distance. It’s such a rare thing, and often unintentional on JJ’s part. Certainly, JJ has never purposefully opened himself up to Yuri like this.

Yet, despite the newness of it, and Yuri’s lack of finesse in matters of comfort, it isn’t as uncomfortable as he would have expected.

With a heavy sigh, JJ says, “And after dinner tonight, I know you’re probably going to have a hard time seeing anything from Bella’s perspective.”

“What the fuck does dinner have to do with anything?” Yuri asks.

JJ eyes him meaningfully. “I know you want a baby, and I know you’re going to resent that getting pregnant was Bella’s breaking point.”

Indeed, Yuri finds it hard to keep his resentment contained. It was already a challenge, but this raises the difficulty to an even more considerable level. How Yuri manages to hold himself back is a mystery, even to him.

Fury flattens the tone of his voice; caution slows its pace. “If she didn’t want a baby, why the fuck did she do it?”

“Because she thought she _should_ want it,” JJ says. “She watched her mom, her sister, her friends, and she spent her whole life following this grand plan. Get married. Be a supportive wife. Have a baby. Be the perfect mother. She didn’t think about whether or not it was actually what she wanted. She barely took herself into account at all. She based her life and her future around other people. A husband. A baby. A family.”

“That’s her own fault for catering to outdated bullshit.”

“People make mistakes.”

“That’s a pretty big fucking mistake to make,” Yuri sneers. “She doesn’t deserve your forgiveness.”

His head is spinning. It could be the wine, which is half finished, or it could be the anger, which he feels acutely, blazing so high it becomes nearly impossible for him to control. Yuri swallows through the bitter taste in his mouth. He washes it down with more wine, draining the rest of his glass in a matter of seconds.

“Are you going to let me finish?” JJ asks.

“Are you going to let me have your wine?” Yuri counters.

JJ spares him a wary look before sliding the glass across the table.

Yuri takes it in hand but doesn’t drink from it right away. He makes a motion for JJ to continue. “Go on. Give me another reason to never regret being a dick to her.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t, if this is going to make things worse between the two of you.”

“If you’re going to fuck me again, I deserve to know,” Yuri snaps.

Silence follows. Yuri’s brain doesn’t even catch up to what he’s just said until several seconds pass without JJ saying a word. It’s the first time either of them have referred to their encounters so bluntly. Yuri certainly hadn’t meant to broach the topic in such a candid fashion; his intention was to leave it unspoken, save for the few undescriptive references of “Beijing.” Not to mention, implying that it might happen again is a step further than he was prepared to take things.

On their own, anger and alcohol have a way a loosening his tongue. Together, they’re a particularly potent combination. As soon as his statement is out there, every last one of Yuri’s reservations go out the window. Suddenly, keeping his mouth shut about the sex this whole time seems like an incredibly stupid idea.

Why shouldn’t he acknowledge it? It’s not like either of them could have forgotten. They both _know_. What did he think he was going to prove by not talking about it? That the sex didn’t matter? That he doesn’t have feelings for JJ? That he isn’t looking for anything serious? That should be obvious, though whether or not any of it is true could be debated. Talking about it shouldn’t change that. If anything, refusing to say a word on the subject discredits Yuri’s claim of indifference.

Yuri can’t have that. They both need to know exactly what this is. He can’t allow JJ to get any _ideas_ in his head.

Except JJ doesn’t look like the sort of person who might be getting the wrong idea. He has such a stern expression on his face — a small frown coupled with a furrowed brow. It’s the sort of pinched look Lilia gives Yuri when she’s completely exasperated by his behavior.

“You deserve to know that Bella and I are separated and in the process of divorcing,” JJ says. “The only reason I’m telling you the rest of it is because we’re friends and we have history, so I want you to know where things stand, otherwise it wouldn’t be any of your business unless we were together.”

He sounds so serious. It’s clear he won’t be moved. He probably thinks he’s being _mature_ about the whole thing.

Maybe he is. Maturity has never been Yuri’s strong suit.

JJ’s scent has grown progressively weaker since they sat down. Yuri hasn’t been able to pick up many fluctuations beyond that moment of concern before. When he makes a point to pay attention to it now, Yuri senses only strict neutrality. JJ must be attempting to control it. Either he doesn’t want Yuri using his scent to make assumptions about his feelings, or he’s come to the conclusion that holding himself in check is least likely to spark an emotional response from Yuri. JJ was moderately relaxed at the onset of this conversation. Now his guard has gone up. It seems he has it in him to grow defensive after all.

If only JJ felt that defensiveness for himself, rather than Isabella. She isn’t even here, and JJ is protecting her. She left him, and she left their baby. Yuri doesn’t care what her reasons were. She left. She fucked up, and instead of making an effort to fix it, she ran away. Yet JJ _defends_ her. Like her actions are excusable. Like he understands her point of view. Like she isn’t a stupid bitch for getting herself into this mess in the first place.

Yuri has to swallow several times to keep from shouting.

“Should I continue, or are we done?” JJ asks.

“Continue,” Yuri mumbles.

He sounds no less resentful, but JJ satisfies his request anyway, expressing his doubts over Yuri’s ability to keep his comments to himself with nothing more than a skeptical arch to his brow.

“We found out she was pregnant at the beginning of October,” he says. “Bella cracked a few days later. She told me she was done, that she couldn’t do it anymore. She was tired and unhappy. She said she could barely even recognize herself. She didn’t know who she was or what she wanted, just that she didn’t want what we had.”

Yuri’s mouth flattens into a straight line. He stares at a small freckle on JJ’s cheekbone because he doesn’t feel capable of looking JJ in the eye. The sympathy is even more infuriating the longer Yuri has to hear it in JJ’s voice, and the regret in JJ’s eyes only makes it worse.

“Then _I_ was unhappy because _she_ was unhappy.”

Of course he was, because he was utterly devoted to her. Yuri was forced to watch it for years, every time he and JJ were at the same competition.

He saw it in the sparkle in JJ’s eye whenever he so much as thought of Isabella, and in the tender smile he wore when he looked at her. It was in JJ’s voice when he spoke to her, and when he talked about her to other people. _“How have you been?”_ someone would ask. _“I’m good,”_ he’d say, _“and Isabella’s been wonderful. She started work on some new designs last week, and they’re really phenomenal,”_ like he couldn’t be prouder. If he wasn’t talking about himself, he was talking about his wife. _“Bella says,” “Bella thinks,”_ Bella _this_ and Bella _that_ until Yuri would rather hear a resounding “It’s JJ Style!” than listen to another minute’s worth of JJ’s gushing admiration.

Even when Yuri was free from them in public, they took their obnoxious displays online. If it wasn’t Instagram, it was Twitter; if it wasn’t Twitter, it was some stupid news story Yuri happened to stumble across elsewhere — interviews about their wedding or their high school romance; whole articles written about how “pure” and “virtuous” their love was. JJ could parade around with his dick out during a photoshoot and the world still prattled on about the wholesomeness of their relationship, because JJ and Isabella were so sweetly in love with one another, and they never _shut up_ about it. _“#cute #relationshipgoals #truelove #blessed #loveher #bae #smile #together #inlove #happywifehappylife”_

Nothing could have made it tolerable, but maybe Yuri would have had an easier time ignoring it if he had any reason to believe Isabella deserved the recognition. She was barely one step above a fangirl.

“All the things we didn’t talk about enough before came spilling out,” JJ says. “We were in counseling by the end of the month, but I think we both already knew we’d waited too long.”

Yeah, five years too long. Or a decade. Whenever they met in school. They should have walked away and saved themselves the trouble. Instead, they were engaged at nineteen and married six months later, before they even hit twenty. Was it really “true love,” or was it impatience disguised as love? With as often as they stressed their commitment to waiting for marriage before having sex, they were probably dying to fuck one another.

“At that point, it was less about repairing our relationship, and more about figuring out how to separate without destroying things even more.”

Yuri swallows another mouthful of wine.

He has to partially zone out to make it through this without vocalizing his hatred. Everything JJ says makes its way into Yuri’s brain, but it stops there as soon as it enters, processed only enough that Yuri can comment if JJ wants him to, but after that it gets tucked away as knowledge to mull over at a later time — preferably when he’s returned to Saint Petersburg, where he can pace around his apartment and rant to poor Potya to his heart’s content, and spew whatever colorful insults he likes without JJ giving him that sad “but she was my wife and I loved her” look.

He can’t even be mad at JJ. He wants to be — _God_ , he wants to be — but JJ’s loyalty pisses him off only as far as it extends to Isabella. Otherwise, it’s an extremely attractive trait, comparable to JJ’s eyes. His whole face, actually. But especially his eyes. And his mouth, which Yuri’s gaze occasionally drops down to. And that freckle on his cheek, which Yuri never really noticed before spending the last few moments stubbornly eyeing it. JJ has another one on his temple, close to his hairline. And another on the opposite side, right where his eyebrow ends.

“Maybe if we’d stuck with it, we could have fixed some of it,” JJ continues, “but it felt like we were clinging to our marriage because of what _could_ be, instead of facing the reality that we just weren’t good at being a couple.”

That two people who got along so well ended up failing as a couple seems unfathomable to Yuri. Shouldn’t it have been simple for them, seeing as they were supportive of one another and shared a similar mindset on worldly matters like politics and religion? What did they have to disagree on? _Nothing_. They created drama where there shouldn’t have been any. They let things fall apart. Then what? Isabella ran and JJ didn’t try to stop her? Why would he let her go like that? Because he felt too guilty to fight harder?

It’s one of the most ridiculous breakup stories Yuri’s ever heard simply because there doesn’t seem to be anything sensational about it. If they fought with one another, or if they cheated on one another, he would have had an easier time understanding. Instead, he’s presented with this — two people who claimed to be in love, letting their relationship break down because of an unobtainable image, and a failure to communicate when one or both of them felt the slightest bit stressed or unhappy.

Did they never express when they were sad or angry? Were they afraid of being resentful of one another? Were they ever actually in love?

Unbidden, thoughts of Otabek rise from the depths of Yuri’s brain. It’s been seven years since Barcelona. Four since he looked into Otabek’s eyes and began to imagine the sort of life they could build together. Yet nothing has come from it. They’ve had all this time to discuss it. If it meant anything to either one of them, wouldn’t they have done so already? Can Yuri consider himself any better than JJ or Isabella, when he can barely even bring himself to talk to his own best friend?

Yuri swallows more wine to loosen his throat again. More to distract himself from his own thoughts than anything else, he asks, “So she doesn’t have anything to do with the baby?”

JJ smiles in return, but it’s a weak effort compared to his usual large grins. “Bella comes around to see her every once in a while. Or she did up until a couple of weeks ago. I have Melody full time. Unless I’m traveling, obviously. She’s with Bella’s parents right now.”

“Why is your wife in Almaty?”

“Probably because it’s the furthest she can get from me.”

It’s an awful thing to say, yet when Yuri meets JJ’s eye, he doesn’t see any additional hurt or sadness there. One corner of JJ’s mouth rises higher than the other, twisting into a self-deprecating smirk. It’s a strange expression on a face that has always been so well-practiced in the art of smug satisfaction.

JJ must notice Yuri’s bewilderment, because he quickly abandons the smirk for something a little more relaxed. “She hates herself for what happened. If she needs to get away to start healing, I want her to do that.”

“She’s being selfish and irresponsible,” Yuri argues.

“She’s being human,” JJ says. “You’ve figured yourself out. She’s just starting to do that. She wasn’t nice to you, but she was good to me, and I didn’t make it easy for her. I was an arrogant, self-involved piece of shit, and you know it.”

Yuri can’t deny it. Even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. Offering compliments as a balm for serious self-reflection has never been Yuri’s way.

JJ was exactly as he described — pompous, full of himself, and in love with the sound of his own voice. Somehow, even when the topic of discussion had nothing to do with him, JJ could make it about himself. He monopolized conversations. He tried to insert his opinions where they didn’t belong. He cast himself in a superior light, regardless of the situation. He never _shut up_ , and he either didn’t notice that his behavior turned people off, or he didn’t care.

Yuri used to think it was the latter. Now, after the passage of time, Yuri can’t be sure, because JJ is not that person anymore. JJ hasn’t lost his positive outlook, but his ego has been tempered. He made such a considerable effort in his youth to be strong and noble, to lord over the Men’s Division as King, yet it wasn’t until recently — when he stopped trying so hard, when he learned how to hold himself back — that JJ actually began to fit the part he always wanted to play.

“Bella deserves the chance to get her life together,” JJ says, still with so much compassion.

“You give her too much credit,” Yuri tells him.

JJ’s smile twitches in a way that suggests vague amusement. “I’m not saying she didn’t make mistakes, and I’m not saying I’m the only guilty one. I’m saying a relationship is a two way street, and Bella and I ended up going in different directions.”

Yuri rolls his eyes.

He was expecting more. He’s spent the last week agonizing over it, avoiding all manner of social interaction because of the assumption that whatever JJ had to say was going to be a cringe-worthy mess of heartbreak and betrayal. Now all Yuri has is his old, tired hatred of Isabella. The story could have been scandalous — something to make the press coverage interesting once the news finally leaks. Whatever made up bullshit the tabloids and fan conspiracy theorists spew out will be more engaging than this, yet none of it will be amusing, because the reality of the situation is so disappointingly bland.

“Why the fuck aren’t you more upset?” Yuri asks.

“I was, in the beginning,” JJ replies. There’s an immediate improvement to his mood now that the heavier aspects of the conversation are behind them. Tension drains from his posture. His smile looks easy instead of forced. “I’ve had a year to work through it. What’s the point of focusing on the negativity when I have plenty to be happy about? I’ve got Melody. I still have my family and my friends. I’m skating again.”

“Did you fuck me out of spite at least?”

JJ laughs. There’s a glimmer of mirth in his eyes when he answers. “Is that what you want me to say? That there was a part of me that was angry at Bella, so I slept with you because I knew it might hurt her?”

Yuri shrugs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have slept with you at all,” JJ says. “It isn’t fair to Bella and it’s not fair to you, considering everything that happened between the two of you.”

It’s the sort of thing any upstanding gentleman in JJ’s position might say. He’s so _principled_ , Yuri has to wonder how the thought ever even crossed his mind that JJ might do something unethical.

There’s a part of Yuri, selfish and cruel, that wanted JJ to have committed some grave offense, not simply for the entertainment value, but because of what it would mean for Yuri’s feud with Isabella. That small, but savage and self-centered part of Yuri wanted to be an accomplice, wanted to tempt JJ away, to lead him astray.

It would have been the ultimate victory. As much as Yuri doesn’t think he’s ready for their relationship to come to light, as much as he doesn’t yet want to consider what may become of it now that they’re both free to do whatever the fuck they want, as much as he’d like to ignore the less sinister aspects of them both that might have led them to one another, when all is said and done, Yuri would have treasured his role in it. If this was what ended JJ’s marriage, what drove Isabella to leave, the vicious asshole in Yuri would have been proud.

He wonders if JJ knows that, if he can see it in Yuri’s eyes. It’s a source of shame to Yuri, when he’s being completely honest with himself. He doesn’t know where that part of him comes from. Is it jealousy? Deep down, has that served as fuel for his resentment all this time?

Whatever the case, Yuri doesn’t want to hear any regret in JJ’s voice. Not about this.

He lands a gentle kick against JJ’s shin — a rather poor recreation of some of their encounters over the years, but the past is still there between them, and the memories of JJ’s injury lace Yuri’s actions with caution.

“I’m not a mistake,” he says.

Why he feels compelled to make the distinction is a thought Yuri would prefer not to examine. Why should it matter, when this was never supposed to mean anything in the first place?

JJ’s smile curls again. With absolutely no hesitation, he says, “No. You’re not.”

There’s an abrupt shift in the mood — a surge of tension that has nothing to do with crumbling rivalries or lingering resentment. Yuri breathes deep to curb another swell of anticipation, but fails spectacularly. JJ’s scent saturates the air again, rich and heady. How it goes unnoticed by anyone else is lost on Yuri. It seems so obvious, potent in a way Yuri is unaccustomed to, seeing as he’s rarely made a point to inspire this sort of attention from other people. It dominates their surroundings, so vivid that, for a few moments, it’s the only thing Yuri can focus on.

He can’t detect his own scent, not when his awareness is so completely consumed by JJ, but it must shift in response, from careful neutrality tinged by annoyance to a keen interest. JJ inhales slowly, like he means to savor it. His eyes look darker than usual in the dim lighting. Briefly, his gaze lowers to Yuri’s mouth. Even in public, JJ makes no effort to conceal his desire. Anyone could spot them there and see how eager JJ appears in Yuri’s company. Their affair won’t remain a secret for much longer if JJ continues to act without caution.

Would that be so horrible? Yuri can’t be sure. There are certain aspects of a reveal that he would rather avoid until he feels prepared to deal with them. He doesn’t know how he would explain himself to Otabek, whose opinion still matters to Yuri whether or not Otabek has any right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. He doesn’t care to deal with the increased media scrutiny either, not because he can’t handle the attention, but because he’d rather not give anyone the chance to make any false assumptions about a relationship Yuri is still in the process of decoding.

But when Yuri stares across the table, and he sees that look in JJ’s eye, those concerns all but disappear. Yuri _wants_ , and he doesn’t know _why_ , except that it’s easy to want in the wake of broken dreams.

It almost feels inevitable that this should happen. He and JJ have been in one another’s orbit since Yuri began competing internationally. JJ is as familiar to Yuri as a competitor as Yakov and Lilia are as coaches. They should be challenging one another, _inspiring_ one another. They should be on the podium together, side by side, the way they used to be when they were teenagers, years before Yuri realized how much their rivalry spurred him on.

“Maybe I was a little angry the first time,” JJ allows. “I hated myself for failing Bella, but…”

Slowly, JJ reaches across the table again. Yuri’s steadying hold on his wine glass releases, and he lets JJ take his hand. JJ turns it over against the table, palm up. He pushes Yuri’s sleeve back enough to reveal the Olympic rings tattooed on Yuri’s wrist.

“I don’t regret it,” JJ says, stroking his thumb over the colored ink. “I didn’t know if I was going to compete again, even after Bella and I were done. Then I saw you skate in Beijing. If I regret anything about you and me, it’s that I wasn’t on that podium too.”

Yuri nearly grasps JJ’s hand. His fingers begin to curl, but he stops them as soon as his brain processes the thought.

He feels weightless and heavy all at once, like he could float off on a cloud made of ill-defined fantasies, or sink into the ground to be buried alive. He wants to pull away, but he wants to angle himself closer too, and he can’t be sure which desire is stronger, because it changes from moment to moment. He looks into JJ’s eyes and wants to reach for him across the table, lick into his mouth and hear him moan the way he did in Beijing. Then he feels JJ’s thumb on his wrist, tracing the shape of each ring, and Yuri wants to pull away, to put space between them, because this feels suddenly too weighty for something that was never supposed to mean a damned thing.

Yuri takes a breath to center himself, and all he smells is JJ — his scent, his cologne, both achingly familiar in a way Yuri never would have thought he’d miss, let alone crave.

“Tell me—” Yuri begins, but cuts himself off when his voice sounds hoarse. He swallows to correct it, then tries again, but it’s a halting effort still. “From now on, tell me. When things happen with your wife. I want— … I _deserve_ to know.”

JJ doesn’t correct the “your wife” remark, or argue the difference between what Yuri wants and what he deserves. His smile looks amused again, and he stops stroking Yuri’s wrist to gently grasp Yuri’s hand instead. “I can do that, if you can maybe try to avoid me a little less.”

It’s a difficult request to agree to, if only because Yuri has turned avoidance into an art form. He conceals his emotions beneath anger, or he denies his feelings outright. Over the years, he’s adopted Viktor’s annoying habit of “forgetfulness” for himself, though Yuri comes off as an uncaring bastard instead of a fickle airhead. Still, it’s a convenient tool to use to put off conversations he’d rather not have. Yuri doesn’t run away so much as he skillfully dodges heavy topics until he has the chance to remove all manner of weakness from whatever opinion or argument he might like to pose.

His first instinct is to deny that he’s avoided JJ at all, even if it’s obvious that’s what he’s done. He’s barely able to hold that reaction back. Yuri’s mouth opens around a caustic “I haven’t—” but he cuts himself off and clamps his mouth shut around the rest, because JJ looks both amused and doubtful before Yuri can even finish. They both know how Yuri’s behaved. Yuri has made very little effort to pretend otherwise.

His second instinct is to deny that JJ has any right to ask that of him. Yuri manages to keep the words in by gritting his teeth together, but the sentiment still passes between them through his eyes, which narrow spitefully. The fact of the matter is that JJ has every right to make the request, and Yuri knows it. He should have expected it, based on his own demands. He’s asking for personal information about something JJ has already said Yuri would not normally be privy to — information Yuri could easily use to his advantage, and he’s yet to prove that he can be trusted with it.

JJ wouldn’t be out of line to insist that Yuri refrain from avoiding him at all, that there be an equal amount of give and take between them — and, indeed, that should be the way of things. But JJ hasn’t asked that. He’s left room for Yuri to back off, to keep a certain amount of space between them, to continue this relationship with a level of caution Yuri probably should have demonstrated all along.

JJ is being overly generous. That’s the only reason Yuri agrees.

Hesitantly, Yuri’s fingers curl again. He doesn’t abort the reaction this time. He clasps JJ’s hand, and his stomach gives a nervous twist when he thinks that it’s actually not as awful as he assumed it would be.

JJ smiles at him, with a softness that should be alarming.

“Okay,” Yuri says.

He’s sure he can manage it, as long as he gives precedence to the part of himself that never wanted to avoid JJ to begin with. It’s a small piece, but it’s there— and growing larger by the moment — buried deep down under the annoyance he uses to cover it.

It’s easy, really, to pull it out from beneath the denial, when JJ’s hand is so warm, and the tender smile puts an admiring light into JJ’s eyes.

 

* * *

 

 **JJ Gossip** @jjgossipwhore - 21m

Thoughts?

 

 

 

 

> **jayjay** @jayjaygrlstylin
> 
> Another JJ sighting in Colorado Springs. Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s Yuri Plisetsky, right???
> 
> [A grainy photo of JJ and Yuri, taken from behind in the restaurant parking lot. The lighting is terrible at night, but JJ quite obviously has his hand along Yuri’s back.]

11:41 PM - 10 Dec 2022

 **15** Retweets  **97** Likes

  

 **Lex @ gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 11m

Replying to @jjgossipwhore

I mean his wife did delete everything from her social media recently

  

 **hanna** @hanna_bo_banna - 6m

Omg everyone knows JJs a gentleman. Stop trying to stir up drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next Chapter:** JJ teases. Yuri skates. There’s a banquet. And sex. Also that crazy idea JJ has that I was supposed to get to in this chapter but didn’t because I write too much.


	3. Because the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JJ’s that guy who feels accomplished when he’s annoyed the shit out of you until you want to smack him, but he’ll also fuck you good, treat you like a queen, and give you everything you could ever want, without a second thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are so inclined, the version of "Because the Night" you'll want to listen to is the one by [Garbage & the Screaming Females](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRhMqX107Ys).

"Take me now, baby, here as I am,  
Pull me close, try and understand,  
Desire is a hunger, it's the fire I breathe;  
Love is a banquet on which we feed.

 

Come on now, try and understand  
The way I feel when I'm in your hand  
Take my hand, come under cover;  
They can't hurt you now,  
Can't hurt you now,  
Can't hurt you now..."

 

\- ["Because the Night" by Garbage](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dRhMqX107Ys)

 

**The Tiger’s Den**

Home          [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)          Cats          Personal          Yurochka

 

**Guess it’s true I’m not good at a one night stand…**

POSTED ON 11 DECEMBER 2022

 

Quick question from the romantically disinclined:

How do you know if you like someone? Also, what do you do when the person you might like is someone you used to not like?

Asking for a friend.

Jk, asking for me.

So things with Denis are going poorly. And by that I mean there was never really anything going with Denis, sometimes we’d just fuck when we got drunk.

Okay, no, that’s a lie. We weren’t always drunk. Sometimes we fucked just for the hell of it. Then I was dumb and tortured myself with feelings. _Hardcore_ feelings. The “I want to have your babies” kind of feelings. (Fuck feelings. Also, fuck me for being stupid.) I’m honestly embarrassed by it. And I’m sad and bitter that my feelings weren’t returned, but also it’s not his fault and I hate that I’m sad and bitter about it because he’s still really important to me and I don’t want to fuck things up even more.

But you already know that. Why am I reiterating this again? This is not a post about Denis. Or it wasn’t meant to be.

Shut up. This is my blog, I can vent about whatever the fuck I want.

 _Anyway_. So in the long, tiresome aftermath of this Denis shit, I’ve been seeing someone else. Sort of??? It’s complicated. We’re not officially seeing each other. We’ve never even gone on a date, and he hasn’t said anything about wanting us to be legit. We’ve just fucked. Twice. Well, technically more than twice? It was two separate occasions, but we went at it for a while both times. It wasn’t a one-and-done kind of thing, is what I’m saying. The sex was great, but there’s a lot of awkward history so I’m just kind of????????

I can’t tell if he wants to make this a real thing. I know the easiest solution is to fucking ask him, but I don’t even know if _I_ want to make this a real thing.

Hence my question.

With Denis, realizing I liked him romantically was definitely one of those “... _oh_ ” moments. You know, everything seems normal, and then all of a sudden you look at him one day and BAM. _Feelings_. All over the place. And you have no idea how you never noticed before.

But then with this other guy I have no fucking clue. Do I have feelings??? I don’t know. Maybe??? I have a lot of feelings about a lot of things, so there’s a chance. Which sucks so much ass. I don’t want to suffer through feelings again. This is the entire reason I don’t date (aside from the fact that I just fucking _hate_ people, but whatever). How the fuck is anyone supposed to make any sense of this shit???

I kind of want to tell him to fuck off just so I don’t have to deal with this bullshit anymore, but also there’s a part of me that might actually be disappointed if he doesn’t want to be, you know, _official_.

I used to not like this person. I used to say really mean shit about him (behind his back _and_ to his face), because he annoyed the shit out of me more than anyone on this Earth. More than my sisters, even. (Shocking, I know.) Somehow me saying mean shit never seemed to bother him, though. He’d tell me I was cute and call me disgustingly sweet names and act like a gentleman, which felt patronizing sometimes, but now I can’t tell if I was projecting and/or reading too much into it, because it doesn’t feel patronizing anymore.

I have no fucking idea how things turned out like this. We didn’t see one another for a while, then he showed up to this party I went to and we were both a little drunk and, more importantly, without significant others. He’s not as annoying as he used to be, at least. I hate to say it, but I actually _do_ kind of, _maybe_ , sort of like being in his company. He’s… not the most awful person on the planet. I mean, he’s _nice_??? And I’ve always been weirdly vulnerable to nice people. Also, he’s really hot. Like, stupidly, _stupidly_ hot.

Which I now realize is what I should have led with if I wanted to keep pretending feelings aren’t a factor at all...

Fuck, whatever. We fucked and it was surprisingly good, and now sometimes I look at him and want to make out with him for hours. But also he can be frustrating and I still want to punch him in the face, too. Is that normal? I don’t think that’s normal. Am I fucked up???

I don’t know what to do.

 _Ugh_. Someone help me. I’m turning into my sister Vera.

Oh my fucking God, I _am_ turning into my sister Vera. Hit on by a hot guy at a party. Agonizing over it for months after...

What the _fuck_.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Am I going to start sighing and pining over him now???? Is this karma for all the rude shit I’ve said about my sisters and their stupid love lives??????

 _Fuck_ this shit.

(One day I’m going to stop using this blog to vent about personal shit and actually focus on the things I started this blog to blog about.

Like Yurochka. Do you think he ever gets himself caught up in bullshit romances????

Is this even a romance??????????

Fucking gross. I just gagged a little.)

 

TAGGED: Personal, Relationships

* * *

[A short video of four year old Pavel dancing around the living area of a cozy apartment. On the television screen, one can see footage of Yuri’s winning free skate. Pavel appears to be copying Yuri’s every move.]

**9,451 likes**

**nadya_polunina** @yuri_plisetsky’s biggest fan! #babypopo1 #teamrussia #proudmama

 

 **phichit+chu** Learning from the best!  
**v-nikiforov** ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤  
**yuri_plisetsky** /clutches heart  
**mila-babicheva** I still have no idea what Yuri did to get this kid to love him so much  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva I don’t smother him and I listen when he talks  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Alright mama yura  
**lilia_baranovskaya** Precious  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya This is high praise  
  
DECEMBER 10

* * *

They fuck — of course they do.

But not that night.

By the time they slide out of the booth and leave the lounge, Yuri feels both tired and overfull. His pace is sluggish as they make their way to the elevator, and he leans against the wall with his eyes closed while it ascends. JJ stands beside him, close enough that Yuri could lower his head onto JJ’s shoulder if he wanted to, turn his face into JJ’s neck and breathe deep.

He doesn’t do it, wary still about crossing that line between friends who fuck and friends who become something more. Yuri settles for what he believes to be the safer alternative — letting their arms entwine while JJ strokes a thumb over his wrist. The contact is intimate without being overwhelming. Rather like JJ’s foot pressed against his own beneath the dinner table, the long fingers around Yuri’s wrist have a grounding effect. JJ’s thumb strokes over his tattoo, over and over again, sometimes in a smooth slide, sometimes in soothing circles.

When they arrive on the correct floor, those careful fingers release Yuri’s wrist and take his hand instead.

JJ’s palm is rough but warm. His grip is relaxed. Yuri could easily untangle their fingers or shake his hand free, but he chooses not to. Hand-holding is not such an uncommon gesture that Yuri feels completely out of his element, though taking one of Georgi’s kids by the hand can’t possibly compare to this. It’s a strange thing to walk down the hall hand-in-hand when so few of his encounters with JJ thus far have contained an air of romance. Yuri can’t even be sure this qualifies. He allows it simply for the opportunity to test it out, and he isn’t entirely surprised that it doesn’t feel out of place.

He expects JJ to follow him into his room, but when Yuri fumbles with the keycard, JJ takes him by the arm and guides him around until Yuri’s back is pressed against the door.

JJ cups Yuri’s face with his left hand. Yuri can feel the platinum wedding ring against his jaw. Annoyance rises quickly again, but JJ lifts his hand away before Yuri can say anything about it. Then there are fingers combing through Yuri’s hair, brushing the long fall of it out of Yuri’s face. Yuri’s gaze flicks from JJ’s eyes to JJ’s lips as anticipation thrums through his veins.

Yuri tilts his head when JJ leans in, but the kiss that follows is gentler than Yuri anticipated. It’s over much too soon, the pressure against his lips there and gone again in moments. Yuri doesn’t even have the chance to enjoy it, and when he shifts to chase after JJ’s mouth, the hand in Yuri’s hair holds him in place.

JJ smiles at him softly and says, “Good night.”

The wine must be affecting him more than he realized, because Yuri feels too dazed to react with more than a breathless, “... what?”

There’s amusement in JJ’s eyes again. He trails the pad of his thumb over the thin line of one of Yuri’s eyebrows, voice a little louder, a little more firm when he repeats himself, “Good night.”

“But—”

“Tomorrow,” JJ interrupts him. His hand lowers, and his thumb caresses Yuri’s cheek. “After the exhibition and the banquet.”

Yuri’s shakes his head more to dispel the confusion than to disagree. He wants to ask if JJ will even be at the banquet, but he can’t seem to formulate the words.

JJ laughs quietly, then continues, “And don’t drink as much. I’d rather have you sober this time.”

“I’m not drunk,” Yuri argues. He frowns to show his disapproval, but he ends up looking more petulant than anything.

Lips touch his again — as gentle as the first time, and far too chaste for Yuri’s liking. Every attempt he makes to deepen the kiss is met with resistance.

This is surreal. One moment, Yuri is struck by the inevitability of their relationship, and the undeniable attraction between them that likely existed long before he even noticed it. Then, in the very next moment, he’s left stunned by the unpredictability of it all — that they should both find someone years before, two people who, at the time, seemed so perfect for them both, only to be proven wrong later, when both relationships were left stagnant or broken, leading them here. Perhaps not to this very moment, but still, in a way, to one another.

Certainly, they each have their own reasons for coming back to each other, but those reasons matter far less than the one indisputable fact Yuri, despite his best efforts, can’t seem to banish from his mind.

He wants, wholly and deeply, so much so that it overwhelms his senses, and for one frightening moment, his breath is taken away not by the anticipation that sets his heart racing, but by the thought that this might end.

So when JJ breaks the kiss and pulls away, Yuri’s instinct is to stop him. JJ’s hand withdraws from Yuri’s face, and he turns to retreat down the hall. Yuri makes a tired attempt to grab his arm, to pull him back, but he can’t reach without pushing himself off of the door, which he quickly realizes is the only thing currently keeping him upright. He leans against it heavily, watching JJ drift further and further away.

Everything about their relationship is appealing it its familiarity. Not the kissing or the tender touches, which have an appeal all their own, of course, but which, compared to the rest of it, have been a much more recent development.

It’s JJ’s laughter, and the mirth in his eyes; the sound of his voice rising above the rest; the smell of him, so unmistakable even in a crowd; the very sight of him, dark and handsome against the backdrop of a bland hotel — those are the things Yuri finds most entrancing. They’ve been a part of his life for so long, their absence in recent years left a hole in his spirit, one that shocked him first by its very existence, and then by his own failure to fill it.

Here again — in a different city, but surrounded by all the things that made their meetings so utterly predictable — the troublesome parts of their past seem not to matter, and Yuri can’t help but wonder if there was ever a moment before, years ago when they first met, that could have led them together sooner if they’d simply paid more attention.

They’re the only ones out in the hall, so JJ’s scent lingers. Yuri breathes it in while he still has the chance, before JJ is gone and the smell of him fades away, and Yuri’s left with nothing but memories again. The desire in it now is unmistakable. It resonates between them, growing stronger with each step JJ takes down the hall. JJ wants as intensely as Yuri wants, but JJ does nothing about it, simply presses the button for the elevator and prepares to leave.

“You son of a bitch,” Yuri calls to him. He slumps low with regret, not for his harsh words, but for his earlier reluctance.

He should have turned his head in the elevator, should have pressed closer, and given into the instinct that urged him to disregard the last of his reservations.

If there was ever a line between what they’ve been before and what they could be now, it was never a divide.

It was a bridge connecting two winding paths together.

A bark of laughter tears from JJ’s throat just as the elevator doors open. He turns to Yuri before he enters, mouth curving up at the corners. It’s hard to tell from the distance, but Yuri suspects it settles into a self-satisfied smirk.

“Sweet dreams,” JJ says.

Then he crosses into the elevator. The doors close only moments later, carrying him away. Up or down, Yuri doesn’t know; he can’t make out the display above the elevator from this far away, and he’s much too tired to trip his way down the hall to check. Alone now, the fatigue he’s kept at bay all evening settles heavily on him. He tips his head back and shuts his eyes, and he allows himself to feel sullen while he waits for the quiet sounds of the elevator to cease. Only when the elevator has come to a stop, and there’s no denying that JJ has gone, does Yuri dredge up the last of his energy to turn and unlock the door.

He fumbles with the keycard again. It isn’t until the third impatient attempt that he actually manages to get it to work. He lets the door shut loudly behind him, wincing belatedly when he remembers Yakov and Lilia are right next door.

He doesn’t bother washing up or changing. Yuri throws the bundle of his coat, gloves, and scarf toward his open suitcases, which already spill half of their contents out onto the floor. Then he tugs off his boots and leaves them where they drop. He stops by the bathroom long enough to use the toilet, and though he considers at least brushing his teeth and spraying his hair with dry shampoo, Yuri decides even that minimal effort would be too taxing. He stumbles back into the room after kicking off his jeans, plugs his phone in on the side table, then collapses face first onto the bed and doesn’t move until his alarm rings in the morning.

His day starts with a dull headache and the low simmer of resentment twisting his stomach into knots. Yuri languishes in bed on his laptop for over half an hour, prepared to spend much of the morning sprawled among the blankets as he broods, but spite eventually spurs him out of bed. By then, he doesn’t have time for a lengthy shower, so he does little more than rinse off quickly, then turns to deodorant, body spray, and dry shampoo for the rest. He looks sloppy and drained with a wan face and his hair piled into the biggest mess of a bun he’s ever made, but it’s nothing a little makeup and better styling won’t take care of later.

Lilia comes to fetch him for breakfast not long after, makeup already perfectly applied and every strand of hair in its proper place. She doesn’t comment on his appearance, but her brow arches as she looks him over critically.

Yakov has much less restraint. When Yuri and Lilia join him downstairs, he growls out, “Are you ill?”

“No,” Yuri says tersely.

He settles down with a carton of yogurt and a few pieces of toast with jam. Lilia prepares a cup of tea for him when she sees he’s neglected to do so himself. Yuri grunts his thanks and ignores the silent looks his coaches exchange with one another across the breakfast table.

Not until he’s finished eating does Yuri announce, “I’m changing my program.”

He makes the decision on a whim, before his brain even has the chance to completely register the thought. Yuri’s confidence takes over as soon as it’s out there, latching onto the idea so quickly, any lingering unease has no opportunity to sneak in.

Neither Yakov nor Lilia appear surprised. This is, after all, not an uncommon development. Yuri has changed his plans for the exhibition skate at the last minute on more occasions than any of them care to count. If anything shocks his coaches at this point, it’s that Yuri’s made an effort to warn them this time.

“I’m doing Because The Night.”

“Why on _Earth_ —” Yakov begins to grumble, but Lilia cuts him off with a warning glare.

They say nothing more about it. Yuri and Yakov spend a few moments scowling at one another, before Yakov eventually relents, muttering something about “willful brats” and “too old for this” under his breath. For a short while after, Lilia looks exasperated by them both, but her expression quickly becomes impassive again once she goes back to sipping her tea.

The morning passes quickly enough, though a sense of restlessness makes itself known as soon as their short breakfast comes to an end.

Yuri expects to see JJ everywhere, at any moment, whether he’s suitably prepared for the encounter or not — perhaps in the hallway when Yuri returns to his room for his sports bag, or in the lobby as Yuri makes his way out of the hotel. If not then, perhaps at the arena. On the way over, Yuri imagines that he’ll find JJ grinning and laughing among his adoring fans, who’ll show up anywhere for so much as a glimpse of him even when he’s not competing; JJ will see Yuri arrive and wink at him, and Yuri will glower back and punch JJ’s shoulder, because it’s JJ’s fault he feels so agitated, and that bastard probably knows it.

All of this leaves him thoroughly _un_ prepared for what actually occurs.

JJ is not in the hall outside of Yuri’s room, nor does Yuri spot him in the lobby. He isn’t at the arena either, not outside greeting fans or hovering around inside during practice for the exhibition. JJ’s brother and sister are present, and JJ’s parents are frequently within sight, but JJ himself is conspicuously absent.

It has to be purposeful. There isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that he’s being teased. For days, JJ lingered everywhere Yuri turned when all Yuri wanted was to avoid him, and now that Yuri actually wants him around, JJ is nowhere to be seen.

A disappointment as deep and all-consuming as the desire Yuri experienced the night before settles over him, creating such a heavy weight, Yuri is temporarily crushed by it, slumping onto a bench to wallow and yearn for the quiet and isolation of his hotel room, before anger and disgust swoop in to combat it.

He’s tying his skates after a brief warmup off the ice when Yuri feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. The text he finds waiting for him is both frustrating and unsurprising.

Yuri glares at the screen. As he contemplates a response, the ellipses appear to indicate that JJ is typing again.

“Fuck you, shithead,” Yuri swears lowly, but the quality of his voice is somewhat lacking, devoid of its usual heat.

A soft, aggravated sound tears out of Yuri’s throat. He mutters, “I’ll bet you can’t, you obnoxious prick.”

He decides not to answer. If this is supposed to be some sort of game, Yuri refuses to go along with it. He knows exactly what will happen the moment he texts something back. JJ will flirt and tease, and Yuri — either in a moment of anger, weakness, or insanity — will fall right into whatever trap JJ’s trying to set.

Let JJ be the one to wait. Let JJ pine for a response and grow frustrated when he doesn’t get one. Let him sit around all day checking his phone, becoming more and more disappointed each time he sees no text waiting for him. Maybe he’ll get anxious. Maybe he’ll worry he’s taken the teasing too far. Then JJ will drop this bullshit and come grovel, because Yuri knows what JJ wants, and he knows JJ thinks he’s going to get it. There’s no point in Yuri lying to himself by pretending he doesn’t have any intention of giving in to JJ when the time comes, but that doesn’t mean Yuri has to make it easy.

If JJ wants to play, then fine, they could play, but Yuri was going to be the one making the rules.

He shoves his phone back into the pocket of his team jacket, which he discards before heading out onto the ice.

Practice proves to be a sufficient enough distraction. Not that it’s particularly strenuous. Even those few times he’s completely scrapped an exhibition piece and started from scratch the night before are nothing compared to the nerves Yuri occasionally feels before competition. Nevertheless, today’s practice session offers him the opportunity to work out some of his frustrations without sending a series of hostile text messages or chucking his phone at the wall.

Just before all of the skaters take to the ice to practice the ensemble piece for the end of the show, JJ’s sister comes to lean against the boards while Yuri breaks for water. He picks up on her scent before he sees her — a cloud of bright amusement over the underlying sweetness Yuri always associates with other omegas.

“You’re weirdly intense today,” she observes.

Yuri lifts his gaze to glare at her as he guzzles his drink.

Sophie Leroy should be annoying simply on account of being JJ’s sister, yet after spending a fair bit of time in her company as part of Mila’s “squad,” Yuri has been forced to admit that she’s usually a tolerable acquaintance even if he can’t claim to be close friends with her.

She looks more like her mother than her father, except that she’s naturally dark haired, and perpetually tan even in the dead of winter. The hair she changes every season, either with a new style or a different color. It’s dark blonde now — a bit of a dull, understated look compared to the deep plum purple from last season, but it suits her just as well, long and wavy in a ponytail, making her look less like a Leroy as a result. She’s tall for Ladies’ Singles, and thin like Yuri, with olive eyes and a round face.

Rather like JJ’s daughter, Sophie’s resemblance to her oldest brother is at its most unmistakable when she smiles. Otherwise, Yuri has, on occasion, been able to forget that they’re related at all. Yet the thing he appreciates most about Sophie is her irreverent approach to her oldest brother. When JJ’s wife put so much effort into stroking his ego, and Nathalie and Alain often look as if they think JJ is a blessing not just to them, but to the entire world, it’s a breath of fresh air to hear Sophie say “ugh, wipe that smug look off of your face” or “go away, you’re being a massive dick.”

So when she slides a little closer to Yuri and says, “You need to get laid,” Yuri resists the urge to shove her away.

“Tell JJ to stop being a prick and maybe I will,” he snaps back.

Sophie doesn’t seem surprised by the retort, or amused by the implication. Her eyes don’t widen. She doesn’t laugh and say “ha ha, very funny” like she thinks he’s joking around. Instead, she sags dramatically against the boards around the rink.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she says. “Did he finally tell you about the thing I had to swear not to talk about with anyone?”

“You mean his wife?”

“ _Yes_. Oh my _God_ ,” she says again, nearly moaning with relief. “It’s been _months_. I felt like I was going to die. _No one_ in my family wants to talk about Bella anymore. Except Charlie, but there’s only so many times I can bitch to Charlie before it starts losing its effect.”

Yuri just stares at her, frozen with his bottle of water nearly at his mouth. “And you already know about me and JJ?”

Sophie hauls herself back up and gives him a pointed look. “My entire family knows about you and JJ.”

“ _What_?”

“Maddie saw you sneak off together at the Olympics.”

Yuri’s head whips around to search for Madelyn Tremblay, a Canadian pair skater who happens to be partnered with and engaged to JJ’s younger brother. He spots her standing outside the rink, at the end furthest away from Yuri and Sophie, chatting with her fiancé and a skating pair from Japan.

“Relax,” Sophie tells him, drawing out the second syllable a little longer than necessary. “She’s not going to announce it to the world.”

Based on what little Yuri knows about quiet and polite Maddie Tremblay, Sophie probably isn’t wrong. That doesn’t mean he won’t continue to shoot Maddie the occasional suspicious look when he’s feeling particularly wary about being exposed.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sophie says, stressing the word hard enough that Yuri’s attention drifts back to her, “so obviously Maddie told Charlie and Charlie told me, and of course _I_ confronted JJ about it, because apparently I’m the only one with the balls. Don’t worry, everyone’s totally okay with it. Honestly, JJ deserves some really great sex after Bella sprung the whole ‘this isn’t what I want’ shit on him completely out of nowhere.”

“And by ‘everyone,’ you mean…?”

“ _Everyone_. Mom, Papa, all of our brothers and sisters. My aunts and uncles. Probably every last one of our cousins by now. Our grandmother, too.”

“You just said Maddie wouldn’t tell anyone,” Yuri complains.

“She didn’t.  _I_ did.”

Yuri almost reconsiders his decision not to shove Sophie out of his face. He glares darkly and says, “What the _fuck_.”

Sophie rolls her eyes. “What? JJ’s energy goes all over the place when he hasn’t gotten laid recently. Why didn’t you fuck him again at Mila and Sara’s wedding? He got so obnoxious over the summer. I’m talking old school, overcompensating-because-I’m-dying-to-fuck-my-girlfriend JJ. It was disgusting.”

Yuri scoffs and gulps more water.

“I got sick of it. Told him he needed to call you up again. We were at a family gathering at the time. Cue the shock and awe.”

“You’re a bitch and I hate you,” Yuri seethes.

“You mean like you _hate_ JJ?” Sophie mocks him. Her mouth curves into a wide Leroy grin. “I always knew you were full of shit. No one spends that much energy on someone they claim to hate.”

“Fuck off.”

“But everyone’s so happy,” Sophie argues with a teasing lilt in her voice. “Especially Mom. She’s been really upset ever since JJ and Bella fell apart. You should’ve seen her when she realized you were suddenly a thing. She got all emotional about her sweet baby JJ moving on and finding love again.”

“We’re not—”

“Oh my God, I _know_ it’s just a fling right now,” Sophie cuts him off. “Loosen up. Let Mom hope. You’re lucky JJ already told her to back off and give you space, otherwise she’d probably be thanking you and welcoming you to the family.”

Suddenly frustrated, Yuri rubs the heel of his palm over his forehead.

Sophie leans further over the boards. Her grin disappears as her expression turns desperate. “ _Please_ fuck him again. If he gets obnoxious over Christmas, I might actually kill him this time.”

“Not my problem,” Yuri says.

“You say that, but let’s be real, you’re obviously horny and desperate for it, so the second JJ whips his dick out, you’re going to be all over it.”

Yuri glares again and throws his bottle of water at her. Sophie laughs and fumbles to catch it, but Yuri doesn’t wait around to see if she’s successful. He skates away and throws himself back into practice.

Clearly, he’s been wrong about Sophie all these years, because she proves herself to be as loud and as obnoxious as JJ as practice for the exhibition continues. Yuri ignores her as best as he can, but he’s no more successful than when he tries to ignore her brother. Sophie’s voice and her laugh are always there, breaking through his concentration, grating in the back of his head. Yuri ends up fully conscious of every word she says, paying more attention than he usually would simply because he no longer trusts her not to say something private when someone else might overhear.

His mood does not go unnoticed. There are eyes on him for the duration of practice. Even when Yuri manages to school his expression into something resembling indifference — a skill he can thank years of Lilia’s tutelage for — he knows his scent gives him away. Resentment rolls off of him in waves. By the quiet snickering he manages to overhear, Yuri assumes many of his peers are well aware that some of that frustration is sexual in nature.

They break again for lunch, with the exhibition to follow early in the afternoon. Yuri doesn’t like to eat heavy before performing, so he snacks on some baby carrots and stays hydrated with more water, and because he has absolutely no desire to let himself be cornered by either of his coaches, he doesn’t tell Sophie to fuck off when she decides to hang around and talk his ear off.

At least she stops mocking him for the time being, treating Yuri instead as if they’ve been best friends since birth. Yuri might resent this change in their dynamic, except that it means he gets to hear her complain about Isabella.

“She _never_ should have gotten pregnant,” Sophie rants. “I told Charlie that as soon as Bella and JJ started trying, but he was, like, ‘Nooooo,’” she lowers her voice to imitate her brother’s tone, “‘don’t say that to JJ. You’ll hurt his feelings.’ What-the-fuck-ever. I kept my mouth shut and look what happened.”

Yuri hums his agreement. He’s learned over the years that when Sophie gets going with a rant, it’s easier to let her talk than to try cutting her off. Anyway, he’s actually somewhat intrigued by her opinion on the subject. He always assumed Isabella was widely accepted among the Leroys.

“I’m not saying she’s a shit person, because she _was_ really good to JJ for a long time, and we had fun hanging out and stuff, but I also never thought she was mom material. I mean, just judging by her friends back home. They’re all the type of people who look at their kids like cute accessories. They like to cart their babies around and show them off, but when it comes to dealing with any of the hard stuff, they’re always like ‘oh, woe is me!’ You know?”

Yuri does not know, but he nods along anyway.

“Most of the time they’re just looking for someone to tell them how awesome they are. These are usually the same people who let their kids behave like fucking monsters in public, while they stand there, like, ‘oh, look at my sweet Ava, isn’t she so cute?’ Then they get offended when other people don’t have the patience to deal with their destructive brats.”

Sophie releases a frustrated huff of air, pausing just long enough to shove a handful of nuts and dried fruit into her face. “Anyway, Bella’s one of those people everyone looks at and thinks she’s got her entire life together, but deep down she’s actually a huge fucking mess.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “That much is obvious.”

“Kind of like you,” Sophie adds, grinning widely when Yuri chokes on a swig of water.

Yuri coughs to clear his airways and meets Sophie with another glare. “ _Don’t_ compare me to that stuck up bitch.”

“You’re right. You’re actually more of a mess than she is, because you suck at hiding it.”

Yuri snarls at her, prepared to launch into a spirited argument in his own defense, when his phone vibrates on the table between them. He flips it over to check the notification, only to see that JJ has sent him another text.

Frustration swells again. Yuri slams his phone back down. He follows the action by aggressively munching on a baby carrot.

Sophie snorts at him. “Who just pissed in your corn flakes?”

“Who do you think?”

“Could be anyone, knowing you,” she observes. Reaching out for his phone, Sophie leans forward to turn the screen on, eyeing the notification still waiting there. “Is that JJ being nice or JJ being a prick?”

“Being a prick,” Yuri grumbles.

“What’s he doing?”

“Taunting me because I wanted to fuck last night, but he decided we should wait until tonight instead.”

Yuri doesn’t include anything about being tipsy and exhausted at the time. Even if JJ was trying to be considerate, Yuri thinks it’s a call he should have made for himself — and if not, the teasing certainly cancels out any consideration JJ might have intended.

“Let me see,” Sophie demands.

There isn’t much to show, but Yuri unlocks his phone anyway. Sophie scans the four most recent texts and rolls her eyes. Yuri watches her expression crease with annoyance before her mouth twists into a smirk and her eyes suddenly lock onto him with a maniacal zeal.

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen,” she says, shoving his phone back at him. “You’re not going to text him back. You’re going to go out there and skate whatever slutty program you have up your sleeve.”

“I’m not—”

“Shut up. You’ve been doing slutty programs since you were fifteen. Don’t even try to act coy about it now.”

Yuri glares at her, on the verge of snapping a defense of his fifteen year old self, because “Welcome to the Madness” wasn’t _meant_ to be “slutty.” It was anger and frustration and, okay, _yes_ , he’d _wanted_ it to be shocking and memorable, and it was, but the sexiness of it wasn’t entirely intentional — more a spur of the moment, “Be my friend and help me outdo Viktor and Katsudon with this idea I just impulsively pulled out of my ass at the last second” kind of thing. It was badass and he’s still proud of it, even if he does occasionally cringe when he thinks of his short, scrawny fifteen year old self sliding around the ice, but he can’t think of anything to say that Sophie won’t twist around or contradict, so he shuts his mouth and lets her continue.

“JJ’s going to keep texting you all day, and then he’s probably going to get a little sad and mopey because he won’t be getting the attention he wants. You’re going to go back to your room after the exhibition and clean yourself up, because, I’m sorry — no, actually, I’m not sorry at all — you look like a hot mess right now.”

Unable to deny that either, Yuri bites into another carrot and chews moodily.

“I hope you have something decent to wear tonight.” Sophie pauses, letting her eyes pass over him as she frowns disapprovingly. “You know, for someone who models and spends so much time around trendy people like Mila and Viktor, some of your fashion choices have been kind of awful.”

“Will you just finish whatever it is you’re trying to say?” Yuri says.

Sophie rolls her eyes at his tone and sighs. “Fine. Provided you _do_ have something decent to wear, you’re going to show up at the banquet looking _so_ gorgeous, JJ will get handsy and make it totally obvious to everyone that he’s into you. Which he is, by the way. I haven’t seen him this into someone since—”

“ _Sophie_ …”

“ _Fine_ , jeez, chill out. You, gorgeous. JJ, handsy. Then he’s going to try and play it cool and distract himself with food and drink and conversation, and you’re going to hang out with me and my friends and act like you’re having a good time. Eventually, he’ll get impatient, and he’ll ask if you’re ready to go, but no, you’re not, you’re in the middle of talking about whatever and he’s going to have to wait. _You will make him wait until the banquet is over_.”

Sophie practically lurches halfway across the table, hanging over it with much of her weight on her forearms as she stares intently into Yuri’s eyes. Yuri nearly shrinks back in surprise, but manages to fist his hands around his water bottle and bag of carrots to root himself into place. The last thing he needs is Sophie Leroy coming to the mistaken conclusion that he’s in any way intimidated by her.

“You will make him wait so long, we’ll be some of the last people to leave,” Sophie continues. “He’ll get obnoxiously chivalrous. Like, even more than he already is. You’ll let him, because I’m pretty sure it turns him on, and you want him to be so turned on he starts fumbling around like an idiot.”

Yuri slowly nods along again, which seems to work, because Sophie settles back into her chair and loses just enough of her ferocity that she no longer looks insane.

“He’ll get handsy again when we start heading back to the hotel. Then I’ll ask you two if you want to go out for a few more drinks.”

“I don’t want—”

“No shit, that’s not the point. The point is, you’ll leave the decision up to him. He won’t know what to do. He’ll probably gape like a fish for a while and have no idea what to say, because what he’ll _really_ want to say is, ‘I’m literally dying to fuck you right now,’ but he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything like that around other people.”

“And if he agrees to go for more drinks?”

Sophie scoffs and waves one of her hands in a dismissive gesture. “He won’t, trust me. You’ll leave him hanging for a few seconds, then you’ll make some excuse about being too tired to go out, and we’ll all go our separate ways. You’d better fuck him after that, because I swear to God if he’s an obnoxious dick over Christmas, you’ll never see him again.”

“And why the fuck should I do this?” Yuri asks.

“Because he won’t pull this kind of bullshit again,” Sophie says. “You’ll have him wrapped around your finger for the rest of your life. Or however long this fling lasts. He’s seriously into you, though, so I vote for the rest of your life.”

Sophie rambles on, but Yuri finally tunes her out when she starts in on “you know, you’re not even JJ’s usual type,” because he doesn’t care _what_ JJ’s “usual type” is (conceited bitches, if Yuri had to take a guess). He’s already too busy internally debating what “seriously into you” means.

He would ask, but he doesn’t want Sophie thinking he’s interested. Yuri’s isn’t even sure he’d be comfortable knowing the answer.

Does he wants to date JJ? That question has been floating around in the back of his head since Guang Hong brought up the possibility last night, but Yuri didn’t let it take root until after JJ was through explaining himself. Before, it seemed like the most ridiculous idea in the world, but with JJ’s hand on his, and with the desire so obvious between them, it was surprisingly easy to imagine what that might be like.

As far as Yuri can tell, JJ hasn’t given any indication that he’d like to head in that direction. But then Yuri can’t say for certain what signals he should be looking for, because the only conversation he’s ever had with anyone about possibly dating has been the “let’s not make this complicated” conversation with Otabek. JJ didn’t bring it up last night, just the “if we weren’t friends I wouldn’t tell you this unless we were together” thing. So they’re definitely not dating _now_.

But could they? It still seems like such a ridiculous idea. Yuri wasn’t excited about the idea of a long-distance relationship three years ago, and it excites him even less now. Or did he lack excitement because _Otabek_ lacked excitement? If JJ made a case for it, could Yuri be convinced?

No. Or perhaps the real answer is that he doesn’t _want_ to be convinced. He’s always judged dating to be stupid and complicated. Wouldn’t it be even more stupid and complicated to get further involved with JJ when JJ still has all of this shit going on with his wife? The divorce is ongoing. Even if the decision to end things was mutual, it could get messy, especially once Isabella finds out that Yuri has been with JJ in the aftermath.

Plus, JJ has a life far away in Montreal that has nothing to do with Yuri, and Yuri has a life far away in Saint Petersburg that, admittedly, isn’t going anywhere right now, but it _could_. He’s put a lot of thought into his career recently, more so than he ever has before, enough that he can almost _feel_ it winding down. And once he actually lets himself think about what he wants to do about having a baby, he won’t have any room in his life for more complications.

Why would he want to date JJ in the first place? If Yuri isn’t _JJ’s_ “usual type,” then JJ certainly isn’t _his_.

But he can’t ignore the fact that they get along relatively well these days, and the attraction is obviously there…

It might be nice, wouldn’t it? To indulge for a while?

Perhaps the easiest way to come to an answer would be to ask himself whether or not he would be content to sit back and watch JJ date other people. Because as things stand now, there’s nothing to stop JJ from doing that, and JJ _did_ seem to thrive years ago, back when his relationship with Isabella was new.

 _No_. He did that before — sharing Otabek’s time and attention, pretending as if he wasn’t constantly disappointed by it. Even if the jealousy never grew out of control, it ate at him enough that he can’t stomach the idea of putting himself in that sort of position again.

No, he doesn’t have the patience to date, and no, he doesn’t want JJ seeing other people.

So where does that leave them?

When their lunch break ends, Yuri finally manages to part from Sophie and escapes to finish preparations for the exhibition. He finds Yakov and Lilia and makes sure everything is in order for the change in music. Then he changes out of his practice clothes into the costume he would have worn for his original exhibition piece.

The tight, heavily distressed bottoms and loose tank top work just as well for what he wants to do now. He takes the time to tie his hair into a more artful messy bun, before fussing with his face until he manages to convince himself that he doesn’t look awful. The haggard, pale, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night” look is on theme enough that Yuri doesn’t waste too much effort trying to cover it up. He evens out some of the blotchiness, then lines his eyes and takes some mascara to his lashes, and he leaves it at that. The style is familiar enough in its simplicity that nothing about what he has planned will seem out of character.

Not that he has much of a plan. He’s still operating on a whim — because he woke up angry and frustrated and, yeah, he _is_ kind of horny, and it’s all JJ’s fault, so obviously Yuri has to show that bastard exactly what he missed out on last night. If he thought it through more, Yuri would probably stick with his original program, but he’s distracted enough that he doesn’t consider that the intent behind what he’s doing might be misconstrued, and he’s bitter enough that, even if he _did_ consider it, he probably wouldn’t give a shit until later.

Time passes quickly again once the exhibition begins. After the opening number, Yuri hangs around with the other skaters backstage. Sophie and Emil chat his ear off, but they’re both more than capable for holding an entire conversation with very little input from him, so Yuri doesn’t have to say much. Every once in a while, Yuri shoots suspicious looks in the direction of Maddie Tremblay and JJ’s younger brother Charlie, but he never catches Charlie looking his way, and the one time he makes awkward eye contact with Maddie, she doesn’t do anything more than smile shyly and flap her hand in a little wave.

Yuri watches a few of the more amusing performances, but when he isn’t trapped in one conversation or another, he spends most of his time running through his program a few more times off the ice. He’s psyching himself up for it just before he’s about to go on when two more messages come through. Unsurprisingly, they’re both from JJ.

The first is a selfie of JJ, Mickey, Guang Hong, Leo, and baby Luna sitting in the audience together. The second is another text.

JJ’s _there_ , and he's grinning widely, and there’s a discerning gleam in his eyes, like he _knows_.

Newly annoyed, Yuri discards his phone, strips himself of his team jacket and his hoodie, and pushes by Sophie as she complains, “You’re supposed to look fuckable, not murderous!”

He practically stalks out onto the ice. After only briefly acknowledging the cheering audience, Yuri takes his opening position, glaring at nothing in particular, but imagining JJ’s grinning face within punching distance.

A hush falls over the crowd as the music starts. Yuri can detect an air of confusion, but it lingers only until he begins to skate, which seems to be the moment everyone realizes there wasn’t a mistake in the music. Then there’s a loud, piercing half-scream half-cheer from a section of the crowd that can only be Angels — as animated as they always are whenever he skates something new.

“Because the Night” isn’t new, per se. True, he’s only ever skated it in practice, but he’s had it in his repertoire for over a year now. He choreographed it himself, then tinkered with it quite a bit in the months leading up to the Olympics, with the intention of introducing it there in Beijing. Being an exhibition piece, there’s nothing truly difficult about it, but he wanted to show the world something new and exciting after winning Olympic gold. It was supposed to be a special treat for his fans in particular, but there was a second motive urging him on, too.

Yuri would be ashamed to admit how heavily his programs have been influenced by his feelings for Otabek. Of all the things Yuri never wanted to be, a silly omega pining for the attention of an alpha was chief among them. Yet there have been several occasions — _too many_ occasions — over the last four years in which he’s been exactly that.

When Otabek spent the season leading up to the Olympics waffling over whether or not he wanted to retire from competition, of course Yuri had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand, he dreaded the idea that another one of his friends — his _best_ friend — was on the verge of retirement. But then those insidious fantasies took hold, and he realized how Otabek retiring might open up the potential for change that never would have occured while they lived in different countries, training and traveling at the mercy of competitive schedules.

Yuri meant for this program to be a declaration. _“We can do this together now,”_ he wanted to say. _“If you retire, we can make this work. And if you don’t, we can still try. Don’t you see I want to try?”_

Ultimately, it was a program born from Yuri’s delusions — all those stupid hopes and dreams he carried around in the back of his head, the ones he never fully acknowledged until after they were well and truly dashed.

Things with Otabek were doomed from the start. Yuri knows that. _Has_ known it since he was nineteen, when he sat through the “let’s just keep things casual” conversation, _knowing_ it would never be casual for him. Yet despite accepting that truth, he let his fantasies escalate, because it was _so_ easy to give into them, and there were moments when it felt _so_ right.

By day, Yuri satisfied himself with things as they were. Casual and often spontaneous, he and Otabek built a friendship based on mutual respect and common interests. It was by night that things grew more complicated, after the Skype calls and the text message conversations were over, when Yuri sat curled up in his lonely apartment with no one but Potya for company, allowing his fonder memories to shape his thoughts for the future.

Yuri took gold at the Olympics. Otabek stood beside him on the podium with silver around his neck, smiling more openly than Yuri has ever seen, so proud to have earned one more medal for his country, before age could catch up with him. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep Otabek invested for another season. Twenty-five and tired, and wary of aggravating old injuries, Otabek made his decision that night.

 _“So then what changes with us?”_ Yuri asked him.

Otabek shrugged. He _shrugged_ , as if he hadn’t given it any thought at all. And Yuri knew then that it was true, that Otabek hadn’t ever considered anything more between them. Yuri felt numb, and tired, and he admitted defeat to himself as soon as Otabek said, _“Why would anything change?”_

Yuri couldn’t find an appropriate answer.

Occasionally, he wonders if Otabek even knows, or if he’s been completely ignorant to Yuri’s feelings this whole time. Yuri wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he can’t believe Otabek would be so oblivious. Otabek _has_ to know. The way he looks at Yuri sometimes, solemn and remorseful, seems to indicate that he has his suspicions. But Otabek has said nothing. He’s just let it be.

Otabek was wrong about one thing, at least. _Everything_ changed, because Yuri finally took Otabek’s lack of enthusiasm to heart and began the slow, painful process of putting all those stupid fantasies to rest.

They celebrated with the other athletes that week. They laughed and danced and drank, and they fell into bed with different people — Yuri with JJ, and Otabek with some other omega Yuri can’t even find it in himself to be jealous of anymore.

During that time, Yuri discarded the new exhibition program as a lost cause. It wasn’t worth putting his heart out there, when he already knew what the end result would be.

He skates it now with a renewed energy, and with a different purpose, too, because JJ is not Otabek, and Yuri’s feelings for him will never be the same. He isn’t entirely sure what those feelings are — it’s all mixed up with passion and annoyance and regret and selfishness, difficult to untangle and impossible to interpret until he does — but pretending he doesn’t feel anything would be preposterous. Of course he feels something. He wouldn’t waste so much of his time and energy considering the possibilities and the finer details if he felt nothing at all.

But the dissimilarities are so glaring, it’s as if Yuri is skating an entirely different program. Whatever happens now — whether or not his feelings change and grow; if they deepen, or fizzle out into nothing — this relationship won’t be like the last. If one good thing came from heartache and disappointment, it’s that Yuri is much more aware of what he wants out of any potential relationship. All that “meant to be” bullshit about “true love” and “soulmates” interests him far less than something stable with someone loyal —  a relationship with clear intentions and set boundaries that he doesn’t have to question.

That’s what he wants to convey.

 _“I’m not going to pine for you.”_ He’s done that before. It was humiliating and exhausting. He doesn’t have the energy to do it again. _“I don’t want to hurt again. I don’t want to chase something I’ll never have. I don’t want to fool myself into believing this is something real if it’s not. It feels like it could be real, but it felt real with Otabek sometimes, too. Tell me what this is. Tell be what we’re doing. I don’t know what I want. Help me decide.”_

 _“I’m not going to play your stupid games.”_ He barely had the patience for it before, but he has even less now — now that he has some idea of which direction he wants to steer his life toward. _“I’m not going to waste my time second guessing everything. You either want me or you don’t. Tell me now. Don’t fuck with me. If this is what you want, come and take it.”_

 _“Let go of your wife.”_ That, too, makes Yuri hesitant. The ring is always there, a taunting reminder of what JJ and Isabella used to be. _“I’m not going to compete with her. I’m not going to fight her for you. If you want me, then want me. Commit to me. If you’re done with her, put her behind you. I’m not her. I’m not going to_ be _her. Give me a reason to believe you want this, and I won’t run.”_

It is, perhaps, not the best way to address his feelings, when these issues should be discussed at length and brought to a necessary conclusion, but this has always been how Yuri works through the mess in his head — with loud music and energy. It pisses him off that this has suddenly become complicated, that he feels anything at all, but he can’t ignore it anymore, because the more he does, the more he comes to realize that he likes every stupid part of it — the sex, the attention, the hand holding, all the ridiculous pet names that should make him sick; the way JJ looks at him, talks to him, touches him, kisses him; the way it feels to be wanted, again and again, without the distance or the detachment he always felt in the wake of his flings with Otabek.

Now, the program is a cry for help wrapped up in a “fuck you,” a “help me understand what this is” inside of an “I’m better than your wife, so stop being a prick and fuck me already.” It’s a question and a declaration no one but he and JJ will understand — except, maybe, the ones they leave behind.

 _“Fuck you, bitch,”_ he would say to Isabella. _“I’m fucking your husband, and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”_

 _“Fuck you, asshole,”_ he would say to Otabek. _“Fuck you for toying with me. Fuck you for letting me_ believe _,”_ though he knows, deep down, that Otabek never intended for anything between them to turn out like this.

Still, Yuri skates, and it’s a release of irritation and bitterness, and the lifting of a weight off of his soul.

It isn’t seductive. It’s loud and intense and as in-your-face as people have come to expect from him. It’s nothing like what Sophie would have wanted him to do, but then Yuri didn’t end up in bed with JJ the first two times by acting coy and flirty. If JJ wanted that, he would have gone after someone else. This kind of brazen display is what JJ has known of Yuri since Yuri was fifteen. JJ liked it then, enough to flirt when he should have kept his mouth shut and settled for flirting with his wife. There’s no reason why JJ shouldn’t like it now.

Throughout the entire program, from start to finish, there isn’t a doubt in Yuri’s mind that JJ is completely spellbound.

He has no idea where JJ is in the stands, but when Yuri ends the program with his left fist held aloft, exposing the tattoo on his wrist, he knows JJ’s eyes will be drawn right to it.

There’s screaming from the Angels, and clapping and cheering from everyone else. Yuri takes his time soaking it all in, bowing and waving even as all the noise fades beneath the pounding heartbeat in his ears.

Sophie looks annoyed when he steps off of the ice. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head at him like she thinks he’s fucked everything up.

“You want him to fuck you, not cower in fear,” she says.

Yuri takes a swig of water before responding. In the time it takes him to swallow, Emil asks, “Who are you fucking?”

For just a moment, Yuri considers saying nothing. Or he could deny it outright, brush Emil’s question off and pretend Sophie’s just saying shit to give him a hard time. There are too many people around who might overhear. As far as Yuri’s concerned, no one has any right to even the most minor details about his private life. Not Sophie, or anyone else in JJ’s family. Not Emil, or any of their other friends. Yuri rarely discussed Otabek with any of them if he could help it. He doesn’t truly care to talk about JJ with many of them either. Discussing JJ with anyone _but_ JJ is a step in a direction Yuri hasn’t thought to take — a direction Yuri can’t even be sure he should be following, not when he and JJ haven’t determined what they are yet.

If they’re anything.

If they _want_ to be anything.

But the silence and the secrecy haven’t served Yuri well so far. All either have done is create more frustration and confusion.

“JJ,” Yuri says, quietly enough that his voice won’t travel far, yet in the same purposeful tone he used when he snapped it at Sophie earlier.

Maybe this is too fast. Maybe he shouldn’t be acknowledging it so soon. Maybe he should be more careful. Maybe he should give more consideration to the drama that might unfold from all of this.

Is this resignation or impulsivity? Both? Just yesterday, Yuri would have done anything to avoid this. In the span of twenty-four hours, he’s gone from refusing to discuss the relationship at all to very bluntly revealing it to two people on two separate occasions. Granted, Sophie seems capable of keeping it within the family, and Emil isn’t the type to cruelly gossip about his friends. There likely isn’t much danger in either of them knowing.

This is another test. He’s trying it out, like the hand-holding last night — playing with the idea of exposing the relationship, sharing it first with those he knows to be safe. And just like the hand-holding, there’s a part of this moment, of uttering those two letters, that doesn’t feel wrong.

It feels more real when he says it, when he watches the realization settle over Emil.

Emil looks surprised, wide-eyed and slack jawed as Yuri stares him down, daring him to say something intrusive or rude. At first, all Emil says is, “Wait, really?”

Yuri shrugs, unsure how else to respond. The rest of the skaters are closing in, preparing to head back onto the ice for the finale.

Emil’s shock passes quickly, at least. Soon, he’s showing Yuri one of his wide, supportive grins. “I always thought you’d make a good couple.”

Yuri chokes on water again, descending into another coughing fit. Whatever the last ten months might have proven, how could anyone possibly think he and JJ would make a good couple?

He starts to croak, “We’re not—”

Sophie interrupts him, snapping, “Oh my God, shut _up_. You want him. He wants you. You’re going to fuck tonight, and after that you’re going to keep fucking, because JJ’s familiar to you and you tolerate him enough that you might actually like him despite the fact that he’s an obnoxious dick sometimes. _You’re a couple_. Save yourself some stress and get the fuck over it.”

Yuri turns a glare on her, though he can’t decide whether he’s more offended by the insinuation or by her tone.

He isn’t afforded the opportunity to argue. Yuri joins the other skaters out on the ice and faces the rest of the exhibition with the same impatience he’s displayed most of the day. It eases slightly when the ensemble finale comes to an end. He can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed by the Christmas song they all skate to as they close out the show, because his thoughts quickly drift elsewhere.

He thinks of JJ in the audience. He thinks of the night to come. He thinks of the past, from their first meeting to the press of JJ’s lips against his own last night. He thinks of the future, murky though it is right now, and what may become of them months from now — or years, if Yuri cares to dream that far.

Should he walk away while the has the chance, before he’s in too deep to pull himself free without a significant amount of pain? Or should he let things unfold as they are? Will he regret it if he does? Will he regret it if he _doesn’t_? How is he to know what the right answer is when so little of it makes any sense?

The questions go around and around in his head. _“What do I want from this? Where is this going? Why does any of it matter? When did things change?”_

He has so few answers, and no clue how to go about finding them except to wait for the confusion to melt away.

Once all of the skaters have lined up and bowed, taken laps around the rink to acknowledge all of the fans, and posed together for photographs, Yuri can finally step off of the ice again and return to his phone, where he knows several more messages are waiting for him.

He knows what to expect because he knows JJ.

And that’s just as comforting as JJ’s foot beneath the table, or JJ’s hand on his thigh, or JJ’s fingers around his wrist. When everything around Yuri seems to be changing, JJ is the one constant — a smug bastard and a pestering tease.

Sophie comes up beside Yuri to peer at the screen. Yuri doesn’t bother hiding the messages from her. He rather enjoys the chance to prove her wrong.

She scoffs and says, “ _God_ , he’s so fucking weird. And _so_ embarrassing.”

As she withdraws to remove her skates, Yuri experiences a brief period of solitude, in which he finds himself wondering again, _“Is this what I want?”_

Yuri doesn’t come up with an answer right then, but as he tucks his phone away, he has to chew at the inside of his cheek and twist his mouth to the side to stop himself from smirking.

* * *

[A short clip of Yuri’s exhibition skate filmed from the audience. The music is occasionally drowned out by the sound of screaming Angels.]

**61,728 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Yeah I’m kind of a fan. @yuri_plisetsky still killing it #gpf2022 #coloradosprings #rivals #friends #frenemy #gold #winner #thisboyisonfire

 

 **mila-babicheva** I feel like I’m missing so much of the action in Colorado Springs  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva :P  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Something tells me we need to have a talk  
**sophie-leroy00** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky I have so much quality gossip  
**mila-babicheva** @sophie-leroy00 Yeessssssss facetime me later!!!  
**phichit+chu** Does anyone else feel weirdly proud whenever Yuri throws down and owns the ice???  
**christophe-gc** @phichit+chu We raised him from a sweet kitten into a ferocious tiger  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc Rawr  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc Also I raised myself and I hate you both  
  
DECEMBER 11

* * *

JJ has parted ways with Guang Hong, Leo, and Mickey by the time Yuri’s able to meet up with them back at the hotel.

Yuri half expected this would be the case, though on his way out of the arena, he does briefly entertain the thought that JJ might be prepared to put an end to his bullshit and come beg for Yuri’s attention. Yuri even leaves his costume on instead of changing; he assumes the amount of exposed skin appeals to that base part of JJ that probably gets off on seeing Yuri in tight or revealing clothing. JJ, of course, is absent once again, and Yuri is left feeling both disappointed and resentful as he sits in the lobby.

“JJ didn’t feel like sticking around?” he grumbles, and he knows he’s being totally obvious around his friends, but he’s too sullen to give a shit.

Guang Hong already knows anyway, which means Leo’s probably aware by now, too, and Emil keeps smiling at Yuri like he’s happy for him, while Mickey stares shrewdly and seems to be figuring it out for himself.

“He said something came up,” Guang Hong replies. He leans close to Yuri’s ear and murmurs, “He’s probably busy jerking off.”

Yuri snorts, but the sound is more indignant than amused. He consoles himself by laying baby Luna along his thighs while he entertains her with a few Russian nursery rhymes.

JJ might not show his face, but Sophie comes by some time later with that maniacal gleam in her eye again. She allows herself to be distracted by the baby for a time, lulling Luna to sleep against her shoulder, before ordering Yuri away.

“Don’t fuck up my Christmas, Plisetsky,” she tells him.

Yuri rolls his eyes but hauls himself off of the lobby couch and hugs Guang Hong and Leo goodbye. Upon returning to his room, he drops onto the bed for a good ten minutes and considers dismissing Sophie’s plan for the sake of taking a nap instead.

He hardly thinks it matters what he looks like. The two times he’s had sex with JJ before now, Yuri certainly didn’t look his best. He was tired and a little drunk the first time, with sloppy hair and smudged eyeliner. The second time, he was wearing his most boring suit, wrinkled from his poorly packed suitcase, and there were pimples on his chin he was too lazy to cover up — neither of which dissuaded JJ from inviting him back to his room to split a bottle of champagne.

But Yuri wasn’t annoyed with JJ on either of those occasions, and the more JJ continues to text him, the more Yuri wants retribution. He can’t deny JJ sex without also denying himself exactly what he wants, so the solution seems to be to follow Sophie’s advice and execute a system of subtle torture.

   

When JJ sends him a picture of Melody fast asleep with a fluffy striped cat curled up beside her, Yuri almost caves. He would regret that JJ now knows his two greatest weaknesses, but he’s too busy silently fawning over both the cat and JJ’s baby to care very much.

Even then, he manages to stop himself from responding. With a heavy sigh, Yuri leaves his phone among the tangle of blankets and sheets on the bed while he marches into the bathroom for a shower.

Now that he doesn’t have to rush to get ready, Yuri can take his time. The day’s sweat and grime are scrubbed from his body. His hair is properly shampooed and conditioned. The concealer and eye makeup from the exhibition are cleansed from his face. Yuri steps out feeling refreshed for the first time that day, drying off and applying moisturizer before heading back into the room in a towel.

He digs through his luggage to find his clothing options for the banquet. Yuri assumes that when Sophie said “something decent to wear” she meant “make more of an effort than a basic suit.” He lays his suit out on the bed anyway — the same slightly wrinkled one he wore to the Cup of China banquet a month ago. It’s gray, and its only saving grace is the slim fit, otherwise it’s boring and drab and everything Sophie would no doubt caution him against.

If he didn’t already feel invigorated from the shower, Yuri would resign himself to the boring option for the sake of ease. Instead, he expends his newfound energy by searching through the mess of clothes, shoes, and accessories scattered over the floor until he finds something better. There’s a pair of gold sequined leggings that he tossed into his luggage on a whim; they seem fun and flashy, and appropriate enough for the occasion when paired with the right top. Yuri picks a lightweight black button-down and a black blazer in the hopes that he won’t look too gaudy.

He has to talk himself into carrying his makeup case into the bathroom. Yuri paws through it for ideas, but has none, because he hates makeup and he only ever bothers with it when he needs to — either to cover a particularly bad breakout during competitions, or because he gets paid a hefty sum of money to promote whatever new product hits the shelves. Due to the ads he’s done over the years, and the few “How To” pictures and videos he’s posted to social media for promotions, the Angels have come to the conclusion that he’s some sort of glamorous makeup guru beneath the dark hoodies and the harsh scowls.

He’s not. He’s a total fraud, but money is money is money, and more money means more support for Deda, which means they both get to live a comfortable life.

Yuri dries his hair with the shitty hotel blow dryer, then retrieves his phone and turns to Google for help, pulling up a tutorial for a smokey eye with gold shadow. He scrolls through it before getting down to business, cursing every step — from primer and foundation, to concealer and highlighter, to the shadow and the stupid false lashes Mila _insists_ are necessary. Yuri feels like an utter fool. He’s convinced he looks like one, too, at least until he gets to the eyeliner, which he uses to create perfect, sharp wings the way Phichit taught him several years back.

He dresses when he’s done, tucking his shirt into the leggings but leaving the blazer unbuttoned. Google saves his ass again when he can’t decide what to do about his hair; he ends up rolling it back and pinning it into an elegant chignon, which isn’t totally awful but makes him feel more exposed than usual, without any of his hair loose to hide behind. Once he has it looking decent enough, Yuri returns to his luggage and considers the few pieces of jewelry he brought with him. He settles for a simple necklace — a thin gold chain with a tiny cat paw charm, given to him by Mila the day he turned eighteen.

When Yuri meets up with his coaches after, Lilia seems pleased by the extra effort, if the subtle easing of her often tense features is anything to go by.

Beside her, Yakov’s expression grows pinched. He eyes Yuri suspiciously, then frowns and grumbles, “What’s the occasion?”

Yuri’s half tempted to tell him the truth, just to watch Yakov sputter through a response when he hears Yuri’s plans to be thoroughly fucked by the end of the night, but those few seconds of embarrassed stammering won’t be worth the deafening tirade Yuri would receive once Yakov got his wits about him again.

So Yuri shrugs and says, “I was bored.”

Neither of them question him further. Together, they head down to the lobby while Yuri’s phone continues to vibrate with frequent text messages.

The banquet is being held at a different venue. Yuri follows Yakov and Lilia to the shuttles provided by the hotel and spends the short journey staring out the window in silence.

In spite of Yuri’s many attempts to squash it, anticipation begins to rise from the depths of his anger. To say that he’s excited would be an exaggeration, but he can’t disguise his impatience, or deny the low thrum of arousal that’s lingered beneath his every thought since he and JJ parted ways the night before. Yuri grows restless again, fidgeting and shifting in place so much, Yakov’s suspicious frown grows more severe, and Lilia’s entire demeanor, from her scent to her expression, acquires an edge of discontent.

Arriving at the venue does little to ease Yuri’s mood, because it means forcing himself to appear gracious and engaging.

There’s a photographer taking pictures just inside. Yuri poses after removing his heavy winter coat and gloves, but he’s rarely been good at forcing a smile, so he ends up looking like an uptight bitch. He ignores the other guests that arrive after him and heads further into the venue before he can be dragged into any group shots. As he walks, Yuri focuses most of his attention on his phone the way he used to when he was younger and had no friends.

As he reads the texts, it occurs to Yuri that Sophie could very well be toying with them both, orchestrating this ridiculous plan for her own amusement. JJ clearly isn’t moping around or pouting. He’s being a cocky shit, amused by Yuri’s silence, relishing the effect he has on him. The frustration mounts higher, because it turns Yuri on more than it annoys him. By trying to avoid some sort of trap, he’s fallen right into one, and he almost doesn’t care as long as it means JJ’s going to fuck him to within an inch of his life later.

Shoving his phone into his blazer pocket, Yuri peers at his coaches out of the corner of his eye. Lilia looks as unconcerned as always, but Yakov’s frowning at Yuri like he’s waiting for him to do or say something totally out of line.

As they approach the main banquet hall, Yuri says, “Just so you know, JJ’s in the middle of divorcing his wife.”

Neither of them come to a stop, but they both glance at Yuri in confusion.

“How is that any of our concern?” Yakov asks at the same time Lilia’s considering gaze sharpens with understanding.

“Because,” Yuri says, “I don’t want you freaking out at me when you see us together.”

He hears Yakov sputter as predicted, but Yuri doesn’t stick around long enough to subject himself to further questioning. He makes a hasty escape and enters the banquet hall, staring around the crowd already gathered there until he finds the irritating piece of shit responsible for the day’s tension.

JJ’s standing around chatting with a small group of people. Emil and Mickey are with him, along with an American ice dancing couple and the men’s Junior Grand Prix gold medalist, a short, skinny blond from Canada who nearly reminds Yuri of himself at fourteen, if only the kid were scowling instead of smiling.

Somehow, JJ looks even more handsome than usual. Perhaps it’s the suit — charcoal gray with a crisp white shirt, and a black tie to match his shoes, which have been polished to a shine; he could have just stepped out of an Armani ad, everything is so perfectly tailored to him. Perhaps it’s the confidence he exudes in spades, from the straight, proud way that he stands, to the upbeat manner in which he converses, drawing his companions in with a vibrant energy, the likes of which Yuri has seen in very few others. Or perhaps it’s the lighting, which softens everything — strings of gentle lights and gauzy white fabric trail from dimly lit chandeliers to float over the ceiling in delicate waves, bathing the room in an shimmery haze.

Seconds pass at most while Yuri lingers along the edge of the crowd. JJ spouts off some joke that has Emil tossing his head back with laughter, but JJ’s gaze breaks away from his companions soon after, and he surreptitiously eyes the entrance.

Their eyes meet and hold a stare for far too long. Between the intimate air cast on the room and the quiet music playing overhead, the moment feels substantial. Yuri would swear he can smell JJ from here. His heart skips a beat in a manner he once associated with gazing into Otabek’s eyes. He hardly notices anyone else; he and JJ could be the only two people in the room for all the attention Yuri pays to his surroundings. By the way JJ looks at him, Yuri assumes the feeling is entirely mutual.

He shakes himself out of it before he can become too deeply immersed. Yuri makes his way through the crowd with a speed that can’t be mistaken for anything other than impatience. Even over the distance, Yuri can see the way JJ’s eyes brighten. JJ’s mouth curves wider, one corner quirking higher than the other, as smug as he used to be when he dominated the men’s division.

Yuri wastes no time greeting the others. He grabs JJ by the lapels of his suit jacket and drags him away — an undertaking that probably wouldn’t have been possible if JJ put any effort into resisting. Even with JJ obediently tripping along, his size and weight make shoving him into a less populated corner of the room a cumbersome endeavor at best.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Yuri snarls at him. It’s a struggle, but he manages to control the volume of his voice enough that only a handful of people nearby end up throwing looks of concern in their direction. Most of these people probably already resigned themselves to a fight breaking out as soon as they realized he and JJ would be in the same room.

JJ immediately throws his hands up in surrender and says, “Sorry, sorry!”

The fact that his mouth is still set in a roguish grin invalidates the apology, as far as Yuri’s concerned. JJ cowers back a step, but he doesn’t look fearful. The halting laughter bubbling up through his chest might have passed off as a nervous response if JJ didn’t look so pleased with himself.

Years ago, punching that look right off of JJ’s face would have been the most satisfying way to respond to the situation. The desire to do it rises in Yuri, restrained only by the knowledge that following through would likely ruin the evening before it even begins. _Why_ Yuri finds himself attracted to someone so infuriating is a question he consistently struggles to answer, particularly during moments like this, but the attraction is there whether he likes it or not. He plants his hands against JJ’s chest instead, shoving at him with only half of his full strength. JJ doesn’t even stumble.

“I might have deserved that,” JJ chuckles.

“What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing?”

“Teasing you.” He might as well have added “duh” to the end. There’s no note of panic or caution in JJ’s voice. Either he has no sense of self-preservation, or he feels good about his chances as far as coming out of this encounter unscathed. He drops his hands and takes hold of Yuri’s arms with a gentleness Yuri is quickly coming to expect from him. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Then I must be fucking adorable right now,” Yuri scoffs. Furiously, he rips himself away and turns like he means to stomp off, but he takes no more than a step before changing his mind and pivoting back. He strikes at JJ’s shoulder with an open palm and demands, “Did you pull this sort of shit with your wife?”

“No, we never fought or got annoyed with each other. We kept that stuff to ourselves.”

The nonchalant tone gives Yuri pause. It seems strange for JJ to be so blasé about it, when Isabella was such an important part of his life for so long. After last night, Yuri thought some of the sorrow might linger. The cheerfulness is at once puzzling and reassuring.

Caught between an entire day’s worth of annoyance, and the satisfaction he always feels when he deems himself superior to Isabella, Yuri fails to come up with an appropriate response. He settles for glaring at JJ, who gazes back at Yuri with eyes that go soft and reverent the longer Yuri stares at him.

Before he’s even prepared to let go of it, Yuri feels his anger dwindling. He wants to be livid, wants to shout at JJ, swear at him and call him terrible names the way he used to, but it all begins to fade away in the face of that stupid, charming smile.

 _When_ over the last ten months did Yuri become so weak against it? They’ve not seen one another often. Most of their conversations have occurred via text message, and, until recently, rarely featured anything but the occasional comment about their respective programs, or brief discussions about the competitions they would be making appearances at throughout the season. Even in person, they’ve been cordial but distant enough that no one outside of JJ’s family knew anything was amiss. The casual touching occurred only within the privacy of a hotel room, where they’ve spent no more than two nights together.

Yet here Yuri stands, _melting_ like some sort of lovesick idiot, which — he would like to make perfectly clear — he most certainly is _not_.

It’s the novelty of it. There’s no other explanation. It’s those quiet moments Yuri’s experienced since he first touched JJ last night, outside in the cold waiting for their friends to arrive. Every touch since, every reassuring word out of JJ’s mouth, every second Yuri’s had those warm, admiring eyes on him, it’s all steadily worn him down, because it’s different and new and he doesn’t know how to process any of it.

It’s these reminders, too — that he is not Isabella, and that JJ is not Otabek. Nothing is the same as it was with either of them, and Yuri can believe that this relationship won’t be like the ones he and JJ were involved in before, no matter where they choose to take it.

JJ’s hands return to Yuri’s arms in a soothing slide. “I’m sorry. It was stupid. I won’t do it again.”

He sounds sincere. He could be telling the truth, even if he clearly doesn’t regret his behavior. Still, Yuri puts up a feeble argument. “I don’t believe you.”

“So give me the chance to prove it to you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and glances off to the side so he doesn’t have to look JJ in the eye anymore. There’s nothing to see in either direction, just bland walls, and the few people that linger along his peripheral vision. They look into the corner of the room, not yet whispering suspiciously, but obviously curious.

“You look gorgeous,” JJ says. His fingers run down Yuri’s arms, stopping at his hands to pry Yuri’s palms open.

Yuri didn’t even realize his hands had curled into fists. He allows the touch until JJ tries to twine their fingers together. Then Yuri feels JJ’s wedding ring and snatches his hands away, stepping back just enough that the space between them should seem less intimate.

“People will see,” he says.

“I don’t care,” JJ gently counters. “If we’re going to do this, I don’t want to keep it a secret forever.”

Yuri turns another glare on him. “Everyone still thinks you’re married.”

JJ shrugs the detail off like it hardly matters. “You want me to announce that I’m not? I’ll do it. Right now. I’ll release a statement tomorrow. I’ve only kept it quiet to give Bella some peace, but if you say you want me to—”

“I haven’t told anyone,” Yuri cuts him off.

He almost wishes he hadn’t, because JJ’s offer seems to indicate that his loyalties are shifting, that he intends to put Isabella behind him completely, and Yuri, damn it all to hell, _wants_ that. He wants it more than he’s willing to admit, more than he even knew the night before, but he isn’t surprised by it. It scares him, to a degree, but he should have expected it, given how much he once yearned to have Otabek stay loyal to him.

Yuri expects JJ’s enthusiasm to deflate, but aside from a doubtful quirk of his brow, JJ doesn’t react. “No one?”

“Guang Hong,” Yuri admits. “Emil. My coaches. That’s it.” He pauses briefly, huffing out a frustrated breath as he directs another glower off to the side, mumbling, “Beka doesn’t know.”

“I assumed he didn’t.” JJ steps closer and reaches for one of Yuri’s hands again, but he doesn’t link their fingers. Instead, he rubs his thumb against Yuri’s wrist. “Is this going to cause trouble with him?”

“You didn’t think to ask me that the first time?”

“He was pretty obviously occupied with someone else the first time, so no.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at the reminder but doesn’t comment.

“I know you wouldn’t’ve slept with me at all if you were dating him,” JJ continues, “but if Bek has a thing for you—”

“He doesn’t,” Yuri snaps. “He wouldn’t be fucking other people if he did.”

JJ’s resulting sigh is a soft breath through his nose and nothing else. Yuri can sense that there’s more he’d like to ask, but JJ either wants to salvage the plummeting mood or decides he doesn’t care to know the answer yet. His hand remains fixed around Yuri’s wrist, caressing the tattoo hidden by Yuri’s sleeve.

“Okay,” JJ says, though it’s unclear what he’s agreeing to until he adds, “we don’t have to say anything to anyone else if you don’t want to.”

Yuri should be satisfied with that, but resentment blooms deep in his chest instead.

Why should it matter who knows anymore? Why should he hold anything back on account of Otabek? Otabek didn’t tell him about Isabella — a different circumstance, true, but Otabek has also made it clear, repeatedly, where things stand between them, whether or not he truly has been aware of Yuri’s feelings. Yuri can’t even claim to have those feelings to the same extent anymore. Disappointment has dissolved them, whittling away at Yuri’s love and desire until he’s left with nothing more than fondness wrapped in regret.

He and JJ have done nothing wrong. Sure, the timing could have been better, if only to arouse less suspicions, but when Yuri digs beneath the apprehension, when he ignores the confusion, and doesn’t allow himself to be distracted by thoughts of how peculiar it is that he should find himself wanting anything to do with JJ, he doesn’t really _care_ what anyone else might think. He has no reason to relegate JJ to secrecy, because the only opinions that matter are those of their friends and family. Judging by the reactions Yuri’s gotten so far, he doesn’t expect much in the way of negativity. The rest of the world can go fuck themselves. If they speculate, or spread ridiculous rumors with no basis in fact, it won’t make a difference.

Suddenly determined, Yuri takes JJ’s other hand into his own — not to clasp it tenderly or tangle their fingers together, but to pluck JJ’s wedding ring off.

“I’m not giving it back,” Yuri says.

JJ beams at him. His eyes go wide and bright. His mouth stretches into the broadest grin Yuri’s ever seen. It’s another oddity, that JJ should be so happy to part with something that once meant so much to him, but Yuri doesn’t dwell on it. If anything, it bolsters his confidence. He would preen under the attention if he didn’t think such behavior beneath him.

JJ smells _so_ good — like excitement and affection and mounting desire, wood and citrus and something fresh and clear, like the cold, crisp smell in the air before a snowstorm. Again, Yuri longs to lean in and breathe, suck on JJ’s neck or mouth at his jaw, _anything_ to satisfy the greed and hunger setting his blood on fire.

And Yuri thinks, _I want to kiss him_. Right there in front of everyone. He wants to grab JJ by the lapels and push him against the wall, or drag him in by the neck while JJ’s arms surround him, anything to bridge the distance between them, meager though it might be at the moment. He wants to sink against JJ’s chest, melt into his hands, feel that stubble against his face again, even if it scrapes his skin raw by morning. He considers leaving now, before the banquet even properly begins. It would be mildly inappropriate, but he doubts JJ would complain.

Yuri quells those thoughts with nothing more than stubbornness. JJ made him wait, and Yuri, though his mood has improved considerably, still intends to return the favor. He pulls his wrist free and steps back, dodging skillfully when JJ reaches for him. Yuri says nothing more, simply slips through the crowd and searches for the table he’s been assigned to, where Yakov and Lilia are waiting.

Yakov’s darkening scowl exaggerates the deep lines already etched into his face by age. Gruffly, he demands, “ _Explain_.”

“Settle down, old man,” Yuri mutters, carelessly dropping into his seat.

“I hardly think an explanation is necessary,” Lilia says. “Surely it’s obvious they’ve—” She comes to a stop of her own accord, apparently unsure how to complete the sentence in a manner appropriate enough for polite company.

Yuri reaches back to unclasp his necklace. “The word you’re looking for is ‘fucked.’”

While Yakov sputters between them, Lilia glares her disapproval. “This is neither the time nor the place for vulgar language.”

With greater fervor, Yuri repeats, “ _Fucked_.”

His coaches continue their frowning and growling, but Yuri pays them very little attention. He strings JJ’s wedding ring onto the thin chain of his necklace, then fastens it around his neck again, wearing it as he would one of his many gold medals.

Red faced, either from fury or embarrassment, or both, Yakov manages to grumble out, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Yuri has no idea, really, but he sure as hell isn’t about to admit that to Yakov.

The banquet gets underway soon enough. It’s a tedious affair. They always are, in Yuri’s not so humble opinion. He could live without the short speeches and acknowledgements, and the company is rarely to his liking these days. His table is made up entirely of Russians — two ladies and a pair, along with their respective coaches — which would be comforting if Yuri socialized with any of them regularly. Fortunately, the food meets Yuri’s tastes, and there’s enough champagne to ease the awkwardness. Yakov and Lilia engage in polite conversation around the table, but seem content to leave Yuri to his silent observations.

Yuri spends most of the meal stealing glances at one of the Canadian tables. There are an aggravating number of them present this year — three ladies, a single skater in the senior men’s division, a pair, two ice dancing couples, and the men’s Junior Grand Prix champion — but of course Yuri only has eyes for JJ, the tagalong that missed out on a spot at the Final but who, rather like Viktor several years ago, refuses to become irrelevant and fade into obscurity.

JJ sits parallel to Yuri on the other side of the banquet hall, between Sophie and their mother. Every once in a while, he turns his head just enough to catch Yuri’s eye. JJ winks once and smiles every other time, and though Yuri’s mouth twitches in response, he turns away before JJ can see his lips turn up at the corners.

When they’re not making eyes across the room, JJ’s attention remains focused on the conversation around his table. Yuri can’t help but watch, fascinated in spite of himself. During his youth, JJ’s attitude did not always endear him to the international crowd, but it’s clear he’s been widely accepted among his countrymen. Their love and admiration for him is palpable. They seek his company, they solicit his advice, and they defer to his experience. JJ makes no visible effort to lord over the table, but they give him their attention anyway. They smile when he speaks to them. They laugh at his jokes. They’re all so obviously charmed by him, it’s difficult to imagine that JJ was ever rejected by anyone.

Yuri has to wonder how much of their fondness is due to who JJ is as a person, and how much of it can be credited to his fame. Are they simply starstruck, blinded by his celebrity, or do they see beyond that, to the person Yuri is only just beginning to catch glimpses of?

In the end, Yuri decides that if _he_ finds JJ attractive without giving a damn about his fame, those who know JJ better than he does must love JJ as he is.

When the formal segments of the banquet are over, a local jazz band takes the stage, and a number of people leave their seats to dance or mingle around the room again. Yuri remains at his table long enough that Lilia can’t accuse him of being impolite. He finally excuses himself under the pretext of fetching another flute of champagne.

A boisterous crowd has gathered by the time Yuri draws near JJ’s table. Assorted Canadians make up a majority of the group, but a few of the Americans have joined in, as well as the Japanese pair that seem to be friendly with Charlie Leroy and Maddie Tremblay. Emil and Mickey occupy the seats recently vacated by JJ’s parents.

“Yuri!” Sophie greets him when he arrives. Yuri can’t help but think she looks a little self-satisfied. “Pull up a chair!”

JJ slides back like he intends to offer up his seat, but Yuri puts a hand on his shoulder before JJ can rise. An opportunity presents itself and Yuri is only too happy to take it; he drops right onto JJ’s lap, settling into place with a confidence born from impulsiveness. A number of people stare as Yuri makes himself comfortable across JJ’s thighs. The champagne in his hand might give them the impression that he’s had a little too much to drink already, if he chose to play his behavior off that way. Though a few stubborn doubts linger in the back of his mind, Yuri decides he doesn’t want to pretend any longer.

“You alright, Plisetsky?” one of the American men asks anyway, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Fine,” Yuri says.

“Careful. You’ll get JJ into trouble.”

Yuri snorts but doesn’t otherwise respond, swallowing another sip of champagne instead. JJ chuckles quietly and says, “Probably. But…”

He lifts his left hand to show the absence of his wedding ring. There’s a sliver of slightly paler skin where the ring used to rest, but even that should disappear in time.

Except for Emil and Mickey, Sophie, Charlie Leroy and Maddie Tremblay, their company around the table react with a mix of confusion and shock.

“You’re kidding,” the American says. “When did that happen?”

“Earlier this year,” JJ says.

Then the table dissolves into comments and questions that aren’t _too_ presumptuous, but still seem rather meddlesome to Yuri. To JJ’s credit, he doesn’t flinch in the face of their curiosity, nor does he seem in any way uncomfortable with Yuri on his lap. He answers each question with frankness, issuing a joke or two when appropriate, but otherwise tackling the issue with poise and class. His scent is calm, drifting out and pulling Yuri in, curling around him eagerly. The fact that JJ immediately has his hands on Yuri suggests that he’s thrilled to have him so close. There’s an arm around Yuri’s back as the first hand comes to rest against his hip; the second lands on Yuri’s thigh, low near his knee for now, but threatening to climb higher.

Yuri is suddenly very aware that his spontaneous decision to taunt JJ with their proximity could easily backfire at any moment.

He tunes out the talk around the table, turning further into JJ to glance around the room behind him. Near the Russian table, Lilia and Yakov enter into a conversation with Nathalie and Alain Leroy.

When the number of questions dwindle and JJ’s attention finally turns to him, Yuri says, “Our parents look like they’re having a nice chat.”

JJ laughs but doesn’t turn to look. His hand on Yuri’s thigh slides a little higher when he asks, “What’s this?”

Gravely, Yuri says, “This is punishment.”

He feels JJ’s chuckle more than he hears it, as JJ’s chest quakes against his side. In this position, Yuri has a higher vantage point for once. He watches JJ’s gaze drop from his eyes to his mouth.

“Doesn’t really feel like punishment,” JJ says.

“It will,” Yuri warns him. He shifts in place, then drapes an arm across JJ’s shoulders. After another sip of champagne, Yuri demands, “Give me your phone and tell me about Melody.”

They spend most of the banquet going through JJ’s pictures again. The rest of the table might as well not exist, for all the attention Yuri gives them. Their voices barely even register. He’s aware of the laughter, and of Sophie and Emil giving boisterous commentary on either side of him, but their conversations interest him far less than usual. Occasionally, Sophie turns a smug look in Yuri’s direction, but Yuri chooses to ignore her. He’ll give her an earful later, the scheming bitch, when he’s no longer distracted by her brother and niece.

Yuri studies each picture more closely than he did the night before. JJ narrates this time, supplying every last detail about his life as a single father. He scrolls back six months and begins on the day Melody was born, and while he speaks at first with some regret, it quickly becomes apparent that he’s taken to his new life with the same exuberance with which he once faced his marriage.

“You weren’t in the room when she was born?” Yuri asks. In the earliest pictures, Melody is already cleaned, swaddled, and outfitted with a tiny hat — a stark difference from pictures of the slimy purple things both Pavel and Lidiya were at birth.

“Bella didn’t want me there,” JJ says, low enough that their conversation goes unheard by the rest of the table. “Her mom and her sister stayed with her while I sat in the waiting room all day.”

He doesn’t sound bitter, though perhaps a bit sad. Yuri files that information away, letting it fester with the rest of his hatred for Isabella. He doesn’t ask, but based on what he knows of JJ, Yuri assumes that part of the day — the waiting — was something of a disappointment. No doubt JJ would have wanted to be right in the middle of the action, to support his wife, and to see his daughter come into the world.

A short while later, Yuri pauses on a picture of JJ posing with Melody, taken a couple of months after she was born. They’re joined this time by two women, four men, and five other children, the oldest of which appears to be around four or five, but the remainder of whom are toddlers and infants.

“Who are these people with you?”

“My cousins, with their partners and kids.”

“All girls?” Yuri asks.

JJ laughs lightly. “With a seventh girl due at the end of the month.”

“So seven kids between five couples, and none of you have had a boy yet.”

It’s not an odd predicament, just vaguely amusing, and likely to be rectified in the future. Based on the fact that JJ has an obscene number of siblings, Yuri assumes he has an equally obscene number of cousins. Seven kids between them is likely only the tip of the iceberg until the rest of them reach socially acceptable child rearing ages.

“They’re all omegas, too,” JJ says.

Yuri’s expression quickly shifts to one of disgust. “That’s going to be a hormonal mess a decade from now.”

Laughter vibrates through JJ’s chest again. “Says the hormonal mess.”

Without tearing his eyes away from the picture, Yuri lifts a hand and gives the back of JJ’s head a solid whack.

The pictures are more numerous than Yuri realized when he first scanned through them. There have to be over a thousand of them at least, interspersed here and there with videos, all of which feature both JJ and Melody in some capacity. As JJ takes him through the last six months, Yuri learns enough about Melody that he begins to feel as if he already knows her.

JJ’s voice is warm and proud while he talks. His gaze is affectionate to a degree Yuri has never seen before. Even during the height of JJ’s marriage, when he seemed so sickeningly in love with a woman he professed to respect and adore more deeply than anyone else on the face of the Earth, the fondness and contentment on his face never looked as uninhibited as the expression Yuri witnesses while they discuss JJ’s daughter.

It amazes Yuri — that open fondness. Though he’s never seen JJ interact with Melody beyond the FaceTime call yesterday evening, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that JJ is a wonderful father. It’s in his nature to be. He gives so much of himself to people, without restraint or shame. Surely his daughter must benefit from it the most. She’ll never want for anything — certainly not love or devotion.

Something warm curls in Yuri’s chest, until jealousy digs it’s vicious claws in, ripping tears into his heart through which hopelessness begins to ooze.

“I miss her like crazy,” JJ says, staring at a picture sent to him by his in-laws that evening — Melody held in the arms of her maternal grandfather, her mouth and cheeks stained with pureed carrots.

“You could have brought her,” Yuri tells him.

JJ’s eyes lift to his. The corners of JJ’s mouth quirk into a teasing smile. “Would you avoid me if she was with me?”

“Yes, but it would cost me more.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and lifts JJ’s phone to get a better look at the picture. “Why don’t you show her off on social media?”

JJ’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug beneath Yuri’s arm. “It felt wrong for a while. Like I was gloating or something. I didn’t want to hurt Bella by posting about Mel when she wasn’t involved.”

“You’re too considerate,” Yuri complains.

“Maybe.”

They both let the subject drop there. JJ seems eager to keep any talk about Isabella down to a minimum. Yuri can’t tell if it’s out of respect for her, or for Yuri himself, or if JJ really has moved on to a point in his life where he’s able to put that turmoil behind him. The few times he does mention her, his scent doesn’t fluctuate, and his voice is always steady, often laced with the same compassion Yuri heard yesterday. For the moment, Yuri doesn’t let himself dwell on it. Isabella is not here. If Yuri’s lucky, she won’t have any influence on his life ever again.

Suddenly inspired, Yuri digs out his own phone and shifts into a better position for a selfie — head tilted close to JJ’s, with an arm still draped comfortably over JJ’s shoulders. He doesn’t ask if he can post the picture to Instagram before he does so. JJ’s silence is permission enough for Yuri; he says nothing, but watches the entire time Yuri’s choosing a filter and settling on a caption and tags.

Only after it’s posted does JJ lightly pinch his thigh and say, “You’re evil.”

“You’ll still fuck me,” Yuri counters.

JJ doesn’t deny it, just smiles contentedly and smoothes his fingers over the abused area on Yuri’s leg. Yuri has to bite the corner of his bottom lip to restrain a smirk.

Around them, skaters come and go. Some rise to dance, others to fetch more food and drink. Those who leave are replaced by once curious spectators who drift toward their table to take part in the revelry. Even without JJ’s active participation, the mix of Canadians and Americans are a rowdy bunch. They always have been. Normally, Yuri would keep his distance, lurk in a corner somewhere and play games on his phone until he could get away with leaving without a lecture from his coaches. His involvement tonight is peripheral at best, but it still marks the first occasion he’s drawn so close to this particular crowd.

Yuri’s champagne is long gone by now, the empty glass discarded on the table. He and JJ sit quietly together for a time, looking out from their private bubble to watch their companions. Sophie glances their way every so often, grinning her amusement. Beside them, Emil and Mickey drink and chat, gathering plenty of eyewitness testimony to share with Mila and Sara later.

JJ’s hands have been still for most of the evening. They remained along Yuri’s hip and thigh while Yuri took control of the phone. Without the distraction now, JJ seems to grow restless. He switches attention between his hands, first squeezing Yuri’s hip, then stroking up Yuri’s side, drifting behind to slip up the back of Yuri’s blazer before lowering again. The other plays along Yuri’s thigh, sliding halfway up to thumb at the inner seam of his leggings. Yuri doesn’t squirm, but he has to will a sudden spark of arousal away. JJ appears entirely at ease with their position, drumming along to the beat of the music with the tips of his fingers.

What began as punishment devolves into something close to a cuddle — a new experience for Yuri, whose time with Otabek never included any sort of snuggling. This turn of events with JJ would normally disgust Yuri, or fill him with bitterness over the years he wasted before, but the warmth and comfort of it serves as a balm. He thinks, _I could get used to this_ , and he knows, even as the thought burrows into his mind, how dangerous an idea it is for him to entertain.

After all, the “I could”s are what started everything with Otabek.

 _But this is different_ , Yuri reminds himself. He's in control of this situation. He knows when to rein himself in, because he’s learned from his mistakes. He won’t allow himself to be carried away again.

“Dance with me,” JJ murmurs into his ear.

Yuri scoffs at the request. “No.”

JJ exaggerates a pout. “Why not?”

“Because you want to,” Yuri says.

“So this is punishment still?”

It stopped being a punishment the moment Yuri decided he was comfortable like this — possibly as soon as he dropped into place, though he would like to deny that as long as he can — but he hums an affirmative answer anway.

“Okay, then it’s your turn,” JJ counters. “Show me all the pictures you have of Karina.”

Even as Yuri digs his phone back out of his pocket, he rolls his eyes like the request itself is tiresome. It’s habit at this point to pretend that he isn’t completely enamored with the subjects of his photo album.

Yuri takes JJ through the two weeks since Karina’s birth. He would be embarrassed by the sheer amount of pictures if he hadn’t just spent most of the banquet delving through everything JJ’s phone has to offer. The difference is in the variety. JJ’s pictures were a vivid display of an active life. Karina is so small, she’s either cradled in someone’s arms or sleeping in an incubator in every single one of Yuri’s photos.

But JJ doesn’t seem bored or unimpressed. He asks questions about Karina’s medical care, and he marvels over her with tender eyes and a warm smile.

“She looks like a doll,” he says. “I guess that’s not surprising, with Viktor being Viktor and Katsuki having that boyish baby face.”

“One can only hope she gets her personality from Katsudon.”

When they run out of Karina pictures, Yuri introduces JJ to Pavel and Lidiya.

“These are Popovich’s kids, right?” JJ asks.

“Mmm.”

“I didn’t think you and Popovich were close.”

“We weren’t,” Yuri admits, “until Pavel was born.”

He scrolls back through four and a half years worth of images — from dinner parties and babysitting adventures, to competitions, weekend trips to Moscow to see Deda, and summers spent with Otabek in Almaty or Saint Petersburg — all the way back to that day at the hospital in May of 2018, when Georgi plopped Pavel into Yuri’s arms for the first time.

Yuri shares the story with JJ, but he leaves out the part about his growing feelings for Otabek. If JJ notices any hesitance in his voice, he doesn’t question it. Instead, he laughs at the stricken look on eighteen-year-old Yuri’s face. After all this time, Yuri has to admit he’s a little amused by it, too.

It could have happened yesterday, he remembers it so clearly. Yet no matter how hard Yuri tries, he can’t dredge up those feelings anymore — not the love he felt for Otabek, or the fear he experienced when he looked into Pavel’s scrunched up face. He can see it there in the photos, recognizes that eighteen-year-old boy as someone he used to be, but four years have changed him in ways he couldn’t even fathom then. His eighteen-year-old self certainly wouldn’t know what to make of him now.

The years haven’t created a different person. He’s still the same quick-tempered asshole he’s been since puberty dumped a mess of hormones on him and turned a relatively happy kid into a furious rage monster, but the changes that did take place have been significant. All the evidence is right there on his phone.

The months after Pavel’s birth feature many of the same activities that made up Yuri’s life before. Long days of practice. Nights curled up with Potya. Exploits around Saint Petersburg with Mila. International travels, from country to country, across oceans and continents.

But scattered throughout are more pictures of a dark haired, blued eyed baby. Pavel smiling — all gums at first, until his teeth started to grow in. Pavel sucking on his drool covered fists. Pavel fast asleep in a baby carriage, outside in the late summer sun. Pavel discovering his own feet and playing with his toes, then learning to crawl. Nadya spooning mushy food into Pavel’s waiting mouth. Georgi holding a giggling, rosy-cheeked Pavel in the falling snow. Pavel grabbing fistfuls of Potya’s fur. Pavel holding onto the edge of an upholstered chair and, through a series of somewhat blurry, hastily snapped photos, pulling himself up to stand.

By the time Pavel’s first birthday rolled around, he became one of the most prominent features in the snapshots of Yuri’s life.

“He’s the reason you want to be a mom.”

Yuri looks up from his phone to see JJ smiling again, soft and restrained, but there’s something in his eyes that looks a bit like awe, like he’s seeing something in Yuri for the first time.

It sounds very profound, when JJ puts it like that.

And it’s true. Otabek and everything that once seemed to exist between them might be the reason Yuri first opened his heart to the idea of love and family, but it would have been nothing more than a fleeting thought without Pavel there to solidify it.

After Pavel’s birth, the rinkmates Yuri barely considered friends before began to feel like a family. Yakov and Lilia had long since assumed the role of Yuri’s substitute parents, and Mila set herself up as an older sister to him whether or not Yuri actually cared to award her the label. One by one, the rest fell into place. First it was Georgi and Viktor who bonded, after years of keeping one another at arm's length. With Viktor came Yuuri, who developed a good rapport with Nadya, whose position as First Soloist with the Mariinsky Ballet already endeared her to Lilia. Suddenly, Yuri found himself joining all of them for weekly dinners, encouraged along by Mila or Lilia or Viktor, and, though it took years for him to admit it, actually _enjoying_ the time he spent with them.

Pavel was where his friends were, and Yuri could either accept his presence, go to the trouble of finding new friends, or lock himself away in his room to spend his every day alone. Despite his prickly demeanor and social indifference, loneliness is not an emotion Yuri handles with any grace, and acquiring new friends would have required making an effort to put himself out there more than he cared to. His only option at that point was to accept the fact that there would always be a squealing, drooling baby around whenever he wanted company.

The awkwardness he felt that day at the hospital faded with regular contact. With Pavel, Yuri discovered a kind of affection and contentment he’d never experienced with anyone before. He could make Pavel smile simply by saying his name. He could dangle a toy over Pavel’s head, and Pavel would laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. Yuri grew to love Pavel’s warm little body, the weight of him in his arms, the way Pavel nestled against his shoulder when he was tired. During every “family dinner,” every night spent sharing babysitting duties with Mila, Yuri learned something new about this strange little human, until he could identify a scared cry from a pained one, and recognize Pavel from a sea of other babies simply by the sound of his laughter.

Everything that grossed him out before — the drool, the shit and piss, the spit up — all of that became such a minor concern when viewed against Pavel’s smiling face and babbling voice. Those things barely even faze Yuri now. Pavel taught him how to be patient and understanding, and how to care for someone so completely, the fear and the frustration hardly matter at all.

“Yeah,” Yuri says, because it’s impossible to deny with the evidence _right there_. He isn’t sure he’d want to deny it even if he could.

JJ’s arms come around him more securely, pulling Yuri flush against his chest. It’s with some surprise that Yuri allows himself to settle into the embrace. The instinct to struggle free doesn’t even materialize; Yuri sets his head next to JJ’s and breathes him in the way he’s yearned to since last night, letting that familiar scent seep further into his consciousness.

Again, the thought crosses his mind — _I want to kiss him_.

And he knows he should find this strange, that he feels so comfortable like this after years of agitating rivalry. He should be apprehensive about what’s happening between them, because it’s only just begun and it barely makes any sense; he has no idea where he wants to take it, or how JJ wants to proceed, or if it’s even wise to become so deeply involved, considering their history. He should be disgusted to think and feel these things with JJ as the subject, because JJ is _JJ_ , the insufferably arrogant piece of shit who used to come in dead last on Yuri’s list of “skaters I consider worthy of my time.”

Yet he pulls himself away enough that he can shift positions, straddling JJ’s thighs instead of sitting across them. Yuri places one hand against the back of JJ’s head, the other cupping his neck, and he drags JJ into a bruising kiss.

He knows they have an audience. He hears a nearby voice say, “I did _not_ see that coming,” while several of the guests around their table whistle, whoop, and holler, making a ruckus that draws attention from other corners of the room. There’s shock and confusion, much of which won’t be allayed until JJ releases an official statement. Yakov and Lilia are probably looking on in irritation and displeasure.

But with JJ’s hand grasping his hip, and an arm around his waist pulling him closer, Yuri finds that he really doesn’t care at all.

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri and JJ at the banquet. Yuri nestles into JJ’s chest with his arm draped around JJ’s shoulders. JJ’s arm is around his waist. Yuri smirks while JJ displays his lopsided grin.]

**84,911 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** We get better with age #gpf2022 #banquet #rivals #goforgold #winner #jjstyle

 

 **mila-babicheva** Wow for once you actually look really hot  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva F u I always look hot  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Except for 80% of the time when you look like a slob  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Why are we friends?  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Who do we have to thank for this look?  
**sophie-leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva I bullied him into it  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky @sophie-leroy00 Omg my hero  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @sophie-leroy00 I hate you both  
**phichit+chu** So fierce! More looks like this please!  
**Jjleroy!15** I happen to think I look pretty hot too  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 You always look hot so there’s no point reminding you  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva My ego demands it  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 Fine you look very handsome. My only critique is that you seem to be wearing too many clothes  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Are you asking me for nudes?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 If you send her nudes I will murder you  
  
DECEMBER 11

* * *

They fuck — of course they do.

They leave the banquet hall before Sophie can ask them out for more drinks. They exchange heated glances on the way back to the hotel, JJ’s hand inching higher up Yuri’s thigh during the shuttle ride. He pulls Yuri back against his chest in the elevator, arms tight around Yuri’s waist, his scent so strong with desire, Yuri feels dizzy when they stumble out and make their way down the hall.

Something snaps between them as soon as they cross into JJ’s room. The building tension, or their sanity. Certainly their patience. After such an unnecessarily prolonged wait, their self-control has worn thin. Neither of them pause over the threshold. There’s no moment of consideration. Not a word is exchanged. The door slams shut, and Yuri pushes JJ against the wall.

Their mouths come together with a ferocity Yuri failed to coax from JJ the night before. Even the lingering memory of those sweet, tender kisses vanishes as soon as Yuri has his tongue in JJ’s mouth, pulling a low moan from JJ’s throat as their hands promptly get to work.

Winter coats and gloves drop to the floor in a scattered pile at their feet. Yuri cups his cold hands along JJ’s jaw, letting that rough stubble scrape against his palms. JJ plucks at Yuri’s hair, nimbly unraveling the low coil until it hangs free — a treat for JJ’s fingers, which sink in hungrily, cradling Yuri’s skull and directing his head to a more comfortable angle. There’s a temporary lapse then — so brief it hardly registers with either of them — a fleeting moment to revel in the press of lips and the clutch of hands, before the intensity of it overtakes them again, and passion treads toward possessiveness.

Impatience makes a fool of Yuri. His hands wander aimlessly, his actions halting and indecisive. He yanks at the knot of JJ’s tie until it loosens, but he doesn’t pull it free. It hangs there when he changes tactics, fingers plucking open the only fastened button of JJ’s suit jacket. He means to push it off JJ’s shoulders, but Yuri’s soon distracted by JJ peeling his blazer down his arms, which JJ accomplishes with more finesse. Yuri shakes free of it and lets it fall. When his hands return, they grope at the buttons on JJ’s shirt.

He can’t complete a single task. Yuri starts, then stops again to move onto something else — something that, at the time, seems more logical. Seems _easier_. Or he neglects JJ’s clothing altogether, simply for the chance to _touch_ him. He cups JJ’s jaw. His neck. His shoulders. Fingers press into the hard muscle, dragging down JJ’s chest to claw ineffectively at his shirt.

JJ smiles against Yuri’s mouth, amused, so Yuri retaliates by tugging at JJ’s bottom lip with his teeth. He drags his tongue over the stubble beneath, the rasp of it wringing a moan from deep within Yuri’s chest. Then his tongue dips back into JJ’s mouth, fierce and sloppy with enthusiasm.

He doesn’t even realize JJ has deftly unbuttoned his shirt until there are hands brushing against bared skin. JJ tugs the shirt from Yuri’s leggings, discarding it as soon as it slips down Yuri’s arms. His hands are as greedy as Yuri’s mouth, grasping at his waist, sliding down Yuri’s back to kneed his ass, then clutching Yuri’s thighs just below.

“Up,” JJ says, voice rough with want.

Yuri flings his arms around JJ’s neck. He jumps and JJ hauls him up with an effortlessness that would have left Yuri intensely aroused if he wasn’t already. His legs cinch around JJ’s waist. He grinds against JJ’s abs as JJ carries him to the bed.

He’s dropped across the mattress. Yuri scrambles up onto his hands, scowling when he sees he hasn’t even managed to remove a single piece of JJ’s clothing.

“Clothes off,” Yuri snaps at him.

JJ smirks, and it should be aggravating, but in the moment Yuri can only find it sexy as hell. Full of desperate hunger, Yuri watches JJ shrug his jacket off. The tie comes off with a quiet swish. Then a pair of steady hands flick at the buttons of his shirt, until that, too, is tossed to the floor.

Yuri rises onto his knees, attaching his mouth to JJ’s jaw while his hands grasp JJ’s bare shoulders. They slide down to his pecs, groping first, then skimming the tips of his fingers against JJ’s nipples.

A smack to the outside of Yuri’s thigh startles him. Yuri pulls back to glare, but stops short at the heat in JJ’s eyes.

“Leggings off,” JJ says.

Yuri drops back onto the mattress. He pulls off his shoes and throws them over the end of the bed; JJ’s thump to the floor as well. The clink of JJ’s belt draws Yuri’s eyes down JJ’s body, to his tented slacks and the hands that deftly open his fly. Yuri is helpless to stifle the appreciative groan that claws its way out of him as JJ frees his cock from his trousers and briefs. The last of JJ’s clothing slips down his thighs, falling over his knees until JJ kicks them off his feet. Yuri doesn’t even notice JJ remove the watch from his wrist.

He’s naked. He’s naked and he looks like a god carved from stone, like all those stupid statues Yuri’s seen in boring museums. Only JJ isn’t boring. He’s gorgeous, all muscle and tan skin and dark tattoos. Yuri drinks him in — the broad, round shoulders and hard chest, the veins risen from his sturdy arms, the cut of his abs, and the dark hair trailing from his navel, down to a cock that juts out proudly, long and thick, and far too obscene for any statue.

JJ’s collected more tattoos over the years, down his arms and over his chest and ribs, so numerous Yuri is constantly discovering new ones. There’s a crucifix, a dove for the holy spirit, a silhouette of the virgin Mary, and looping script that could be songs or quotes or bible passages. The Olympic rings are the only source of color, situated beneath the maple leaf and anthem verse on JJ's arm. The rest are black ink. Tucked into the inside of JJ’s elbow is a compass rose. Scattered over his ribs are notes of music. There’s a patch of tiny stars near his hip that look like they might form a constellation. There are others, more than Yuri has time to examine right now, but his fingers trace over them, from JJ’s hips up his torso.

JJ’s eyes, usually so clear and bright despite their light color, are dark and clouded over with lust. They drop to Yuri’s legs and the layer of clothing that still remains, then rise to lock eyes with him. A single eyebrow arches expectantly.

Yuri shoves his leggings and underwear down in one go. They snag around his ankles as a result of his impatience. He tugs at them furiously, forcing them off and tossing them out of sight. The necklace remains, JJ’s wedding ring hanging warm against his chest.

The lamp beside the bed glows, left on through the night. It bathes the room in a soft, golden light. Yuri pushes himself further onto the mattress, coming to rest with his head near the pillows, his body spread out in the brightest pool of light for JJ’s eyes to consume.

JJ crawls after him moments later. Yuri’s hands are on him in an instant, pulling JJ between his legs. JJ braces himself above him, so Yuri surges up to crush their mouths together again, drinking the moans that pass through JJ’s lips as their hands explore with increasing urgency.

An arm snakes its way around JJ’s waist, encouraging him closer as JJ’s fingers sink into his hair again. Without preamble, Yuri’s unoccupied hand dives down to wrap around JJ’s cock. He strokes determinedly, drawing another moan from JJ’s throat. His cock is fully hard and hot in Yuri’s hand. JJ’s hips buck forward, chasing friction.

Yuri breaks the kiss and trails his gaze down JJ’s body. His mouth waters. He wants JJ’s cock in his mouth, wants to suck until JJ comes down his throat, but before his brain has even finished formulating the thought, JJ’s fingers are out of his hair and plunging inside of him.

“ _Fuck_!”

He’s so wet and loose with arousal that JJ’s fingers slip in easily, two at once. Yuri’s head tips back and he arches, grinding onto those fingers with abandon. Any plan Yuri might have entertained before dies a sudden death. He barely has the wherewithal to continue stroking JJ’s cock. His every thought centers around JJ’s hand, and the pleasure those prodding fingers send coursing through his body. He’s vaguely aware of JJ chuckling, but it’s lost beneath the wanton moans that fill the room.

A third finger enters him. Yuri’s hands fall away completely, pressing into the bed, grasping onto the blankets for some sort of anchor as his hips rock, selfish now for his own release.

JJ’s lips latch onto his neck, sucking a bruise into the skin. His body over Yuri radiates heat and lust. The arm planted by Yuri’s head shakes unsteadily for a moment, before the muscles tense to support his weight.

The fingers glide out as quickly as they came. JJ pulls back, hands skating down Yuri’s thighs. Yuri would mourn the loss if he didn’t know what was coming. There’s a hastiness to their actions, born from days spent apart, and the night before which ended much too soon.

Yuri rolls onto his stomach, knees rising beneath him, cheek pressed into the mattress. The bedding smells like JJ. Yuri closes his eyes and holds his nose to it, drawing the scent into his lungs. He can almost taste it, thick against his tongue. Yuri swallows as if to drink it down, but the effort is wasted and he’s left unsatisfied.

The mattress dips as JJ settles into place behind him. Yuri’s memory flashes, taking him back to those nights in Beijing — JJ’s hands grasping his hips, breath hot and ragged against his neck, mouth spilling sounds of pleasure into Yuri’s ear, choked off curses, and his name gasped out through moans that rose in volume. Just “Yuri” at first, but by the end it sounded like a hymn. _“Baby…_ God, _baby…”_

JJ’s hands come to rest on Yuri’s hips again now. They squeeze tight. The action feels like an encouragement and a promise rolled into one. But JJ’s hands don’t stay there. They skim up Yuri’s sides. Over his back. They curl around his shoulders, then drop by Yuri’s head. JJ’s arms bend. He drapes himself over Yuri, chest against his back, cock teasingly close. Yuri shifts back impatiently, hands shooting out to grip at JJ’s forearms.

Lips nip at the side of his neck. JJ abuses the skin until it’s red with another growing bruise. He kisses up, stubble dragging against Yuri’s jaw. JJ twists an arm free. His hand goes to Yuri’s neck, grasping gently, but firm enough to pull Yuri back until his head tips.

JJ kisses his cheek, then brings his mouth to Yuri’s ear and breathes, “Is this how you want it?”

“Fuck…” Yuri means to force it out on a harsh growl, but it catches in his throat and escapes in a puff of air, barely more than a whisper.

JJ nuzzles into the side of Yuri’s face, stubble rough but _so_ tantalizing. “I don’t think it is.”

He pulls away. Yuri doesn’t have the chance to grieve this time. JJ’s hands are on him, cajoling, turning him onto his back again. Yuri gazes up at him, feeling lost at first by the change, but it soon dissipates when he looks into JJ’s eyes. They seem to burn into him. The confidence JJ’s worn since they first entered the room hasn’t faded, yet it shows less in his expression, overcome instead by need. Yuri’s legs splay at the sight — inviting.

Their mouths collide, a furious tangle of tongues and swollen lips and too much teeth. Yuri licks at the indent above JJ’s cupid’s bow. He mouths beneath JJ’s bottom lip, then dips his tongue back into JJ’s mouth as his hands cup JJ’s face, dragging down JJ’s jaw to feel the scrape against his palms. He moans and lifts his hips to signal JJ onward, restless for more — his cock or his fingers, _anything_ the satisfy the searing ache deep inside him. His body throbs with it, from the very tips of his fingers and toes down to muscle and bone.

JJ’s lips part from his own, tongue retreating. Yuri chases after him, but he’s unable to reestablish contact, because at that very moment, right as Yuri rises to catch his mouth, JJ’s cock breaches him, pushing in all at once.

It doesn’t hurt, but the haste of it punches the air from Yuri’s lungs. He gasps for breath, dragging it down his throat as his head lolls and his eyes roll back. There’s no lapse, no moment to come back to himself, because JJ pulls back and thrusts in again, building a steady rhythm that sends Yuri spiraling before his brain can even catch up.

Yuri’s had rough sex before. Otabek was rough for the sake of _being_ rough. It was the only kind of sex they had, hard and quick, and fulfilling in a way, but only because it was Otabek, and Yuri would take whatever he could get from him. There was no tenderness, and nothing intense about the emotions that passed between them. It was always a rush for the end, not selfish or uncaring, but more for the pleasure of the act than anything else, a surge of arousal that had to be satisfied before they could withdraw from one another — friends always, but only lovers when the occasion favored it.

JJ fucks him with every last shred of longing that’s built since their last meeting in Beijing. His hips snap forward, the scent of his desire seeping from his every pore, washing over Yuri in waves, until he’s almost delirious from it. JJ looks into his eyes, and Yuri sees awe mixed with desperation, and he wonders if he would have seen the same before, if this has always been there beneath the surface, hidden with the jokes and relentless teasing, misplaced fuel for JJ’s arrogance.

Yuri lifts his arms around JJ, pulling him down to eat at his mouth, swallow his moans and share the same air. His hands shift and explore, grabbing first at JJ’s biceps before sliding over his shoulders. He paws at JJ’s back, then drags his fingers down, tearing a gasp from JJ, who thrusts with greater force.

He doesn’t say Yuri’s name this time. When Yuri hears his voice, the word that spills from JJ’s lips is, “Baby… _Baby_ …”

“Fuck... fuck...  _fuck_!”

It’s as if Yuri’s brain has short-circuited. He can form no other word. It spills out with every forward rock of JJ’s hips, until JJ’s mouth is back on his, silencing all but his moans. Only when they part for breath does a second word join the first.

“JJ! Fuck… fuck... fuck, _JJ_!”

He groans JJ’s name, over and over, because in a different time, this would not be happening. Years ago, Yuri never would have imagined that they’d end up here, fucking with this sort of passion — not hate or anger, or the hubris JJ once displayed, but something Yuri can’t even identify, something powerful and raw and _so_ good. It feels forbidden, in a way, though nothing stands between them now — like they’ve fallen into something they’ve always tried to fend off, because it wasn’t the right time or the right place, or because, once, neither of them were the right person.

Pressure grows as pleasure mounts. It burns through Yuri, settling low in his gut, heavy between his legs. His knees splay open wider, hips tilting into each hard thrust. One of his hands falls from JJ’s back to furiously pump his own cock.

Yuri puts his lips to JJ’s neck where his scent is strongest. He drags his teeth over the skin before sucking a mark to match the ones JJ’s left on him. He tastes JJ’s sweat with his tongue. Every thrust sends JJ’s ring skidding against his chest, until the chain twists and it drops off into the curve of Yuri’s neck and shoulder.

“God, _yes_ ,” JJ says, his moans low and guttural now. “Fuck, baby, I’m—”

The fit of JJ’s cock in him grows tighter, sending sparks of intense pleasure through Yuri’s veins before his brain can register what’s happening. It’s all coalescing down into his pelvis, strong and hot where JJ’s cock fills him.

JJ chokes out, “Can I knot you? Please, can I—”

Yuri wants to snap at him, spit out a vicious “Stop asking,” because this marks the third time and Yuri has always answered in the affirmative. If not that then, “If you don’t, I’ll rip your dick off!” — anything to make it seem as if his has some semblance of control over the words that fall from his mouth.

What he says instead is, “Yes! Fuck, _yes_ ,” and that will probably go to JJ’s head later, but in the heat of the moment, Yuri can’t force himself to care so long as JJ doesn’t stop.

Yuri makes sure of it. His hands drop to grab hold of JJ’s firm ass, yanking him forward before JJ can even _think_ of pulling out. Yuri’s hips roll and grind onto JJ’s swelling knot. His moans reverberate against JJ’s neck, as JJ braces himself on one arm and uses the other to fist at Yuri’s leaking cock.

The orgasm that rips through Yuri, though expected, shocks him with both its strength and its suddenness. It’s been building steadily, ever since they crossed into the room. Before that, even — over the course of the entire day, while his blood smoldered with frustration and disappointment, and his scent seeped out, beyond his control, so his foul mood could not be mistaken for anything other than unfulfilled lust. It _shouldn’t_ take him by surprise, because this is what he’s wanted since they left the lounge last night, what he’s craved, if he could only force himself to admit it, since their meeting in Beijing a month ago.

But it hits him all at once in a relentless crash, as JJ’s thrusts become harder still, but shallow now, his knot catching — a torturous drag out, then a sharp crest of brilliant pleasure as it fits back into place.

Yuri doesn’t have the chance to breathe. His mouth opens around a hoarse cry against JJ’s jaw. Then his back arches and his head falls back against the bed, long hair caught beneath his shoulders.

JJ isn’t far behind. His hips stutter erratically. He grabs onto Yuri’s thigh with the hand wet from Yuri’s come, holding it in place over his hip. His other arm threatens to give out, trembling with the strain of holding himself up, palm no longer flat against the mattress, but grasping the sheet with tense fingers.

When JJ sinks in deep one final time, Yuri only has a moment to see his face. Blue eyes, fever bright, gazing down at him like JJ’s never seen anything so wonderful in all the world. JJ tenses, then relaxes, expression suddenly open and vulnerable, every last trace of his typical arrogance gone in a heartbeat. JJ’s lips part, gasping for air, and he curses so softly it sounds like another prayer. “ _Shit_ …”

And in that very second, Yuri can almost believe that this means something — that this is more than a juvenile rivalry gone idle with age, their passion redirected, searching for another means of release. In the blink of an eye, all of Yuri’s feeble denial, all of the lies he’s told himself since that first night in Beijing, all of the dreams he’s clung to in the aftermath, waiting hopelessly for someone else, it all cracks and shatters into dust.

After they’ve parted ways and returned home, half a world away from one another, Yuri might reexamine their boundaries, and withdraw just enough to curb the unease that will come from distance and solitude. Some of the denial might resurge then, wrap around his heart in another protective barrier, but it will never be as it once was. It will be nothing more than habit, a tired routine meant only to fill the months of waiting, until the day comes when he can look into JJ’s eyes and see that soft reverence again.

Yuri whites out, his senses overloaded. Even with his eyes closed, the sudden brightness in his mind is nearly overwhelming. He feels only JJ’s weight against him, skin warm and slick with sweat, and the pleasant stretch of JJ’s knot inside of him. He smells only JJ’s scent surrounding him; the bedding beneath him is drenched with it, and it pours from JJ like a flood, so potent now that the equally stimulating scent of his cologne is completely lost beneath it. The only taste on his tongue is JJ’s lips, the rasp of his stubble, and the salt of his skin.

He hears muffled praises breathed into his neck, words like “beautiful” and “perfect” and “so good, baby.” Something in Yuri glows soft. He revels in the attention, his heart opening to it so effortlessly, he would think himself a disgrace if he had any room left for thought at all.

Consciousness eventually returns to him, but it’s a slow process. Yuri feels his arms lying limp against the mattress, then the barely there tremors that travel through his legs, weak and open still. His eyes blink open, vision hazy and slow to clear. It’s as if everything occurs behind a veil; he sees it, but it all seems so far away, like something inside of him has detached, his brain too sluggish to bring everything back into alignment.

The first thing Yuri becomes completely aware of is JJ taking his wrist, raising it to his mouth, and pressing his lips to the tattoo there.

The second thing Yuri becomes aware of is his own breathing — labored still, and loud as he struggles to catch his breath. He’s immediately humiliated by it, that he’s been so undone. It’s probably obvious that his experiences until JJ have been lacking in a significant way.

But JJ doesn’t look cocky or amused. When Yuri blinks the last of the white haze from his eyes, he sees only tenderness, something so soft and unguarded, it puts all the poignant expressions JJ’s worn before to shame.

“You okay?” JJ asks, quiet now, like he can’t bear to disturb the moment.

“Yeah,” Yuri says. His voice is rough, throat a little dry from gasping. He swallows to soothe it, then forces himself to take a deep breath.

JJ smiles. Not a smirk or one of those lopsided grins, or a pompous flash of his perfect teeth. It’s small and simple — the sort of smile Yuri has seen so rarely, it almost looks foreign on JJ’s face.

Yuri takes another calming breath as JJ sets his wrist back onto the bed. JJ draws closer, nuzzling into Yuri’s neck, planting a gentle kiss beneath his ear.

“You smell like a dream,” JJ says.

He’s still inside of Yuri, though he’s beginning to soften, his knot waning. Yuri nearly regrets the loss. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he says nothing, just closes his eyes again to savor these last few moments.

JJ’s lips ghost along his neck again. “That good?”

Yuri doesn’t have the strength to deny it. “Yeah…”

“Worth the wait?”

“...yeah.”

He feels JJ’s mouth twitch against his skin, lifting into a smirk. Yuri strikes the back of JJ’s shoulder. The smack is loud in an otherwise quiet room, but it draws nothing more than a chuckle from JJ. Yuri feels it through JJ’s chest, and the short whisp of JJ’s breath against his jaw.

“Fuck off,” Yuri says, wedging his arms between them to push JJ off of him.

JJ shifts, cock slipping out now that his knot has deflated enough. He puts his weight back onto his forearms. One of his hands sink into Yuri’s hair as he leans in. Their mouths connect — a slow press of lips and a gentle caress of tongues.

Yuri sighs into it. His hands rise, cupping JJ’s face between his palms. At first, he lets himself enjoy the contrast of tender kisses and rough stubble. Then he groans. He can only imagine what his own face must look like, how irritated his skin will be by morning.

He opens his eyes to bestow upon JJ one of the stern looks he’s acquired from Lilia, breaking the kiss to tell him, “You have to do something about this. Shave it off, or grow it out more or use a fucking conditioner, or both. You’re murdering my face.”

JJ shows another smirk and nips at Yuri’s chin. “What would you like me to do?”

“Why the fuck would I care?”

“You’re the one who has to kiss me,” JJ says.

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” Yuri counters, rolling his eyes. He pushes his hands against JJ’s chest, heaving him away until he has enough room to turn and present JJ with his back.

Another chuckle sounds behind him. The mattress shifts as JJ cuddles up to him, throwing an arm over Yuri’s waist and nibbling the curve of Yuri’s neck and shoulder. “But you will.”

Yuri snorts derisively and says nothing. JJ isn’t wrong, but Yuri will be damned before he admits it.

JJ’s hand drifts up. His fingers card through Yuri’s hair, drawing it out of his face. “Bella never liked facial hair.”

That name uttered in a moment like this sparks a burst of anger within Yuri. It bubbles like acid in his gut and burns through his chest, carrying with it a trace of jealousy and vindictiveness.

“Then grow it out,” he says, glaring at the wall. And because he doesn’t want JJ thinking the thought of him with a proper beard appeals to him in any way, Yuri adds, “Just don’t let it get gross and long. I won’t kiss you at all if you do.”

JJ bites at his shoulder. It’s too shallow to leave a mark, but sharp enough that the feel of it lingers.

There’s a lapse in the conversation then. Yuri shuts his eyes against the lamplight and settles further into the mattress. He turns his head to touch his nose against one of the pillows, drawing JJ’s scent into his lungs. He doesn’t mean to be so obvious, but he feels JJ smile again. Yuri jabs him with his elbow, the action too sluggish to draw much of a reaction.

A smattering of kisses dot along his naked skin — the slope of his jaw, the shell of his ear, the side of his neck, where his pulse flutters. JJ continues to skim his fingers through Yuri’s hair, starting at his hairline and sliding back to the crown of his head.

It’s all very soothing. Yuri could drift like this awhile, or fall asleep. The sweat is cooling fast in the chill of the room. He feels sticky with it, and his thighs are slick with come. Yet just the thought of getting up to shower exhausts him. JJ is so warm against his back, exuding contentment. Yuri’s sure his own scent is nearly identical. He would attempt to restrain it, if only to prevent JJ from becoming too smug, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment. Nothing matters, really, except that he’s comfortable here.

Then JJ presses his mouth to Yuri’s neck again and murmurs, “I had a thought.”

Yuri almost doesn’t answer. Even speaking seems tiresome, but he finds himself asking, “What’s that?”

“Well…” JJ’s lips nibble at Yuri’s pulse. “ _You_ want a baby, and _I_ always meant to have another kid.”

As soon as the words register in Yuri’s brain, he tenses. His eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake, as the fog of weariness lifts away from him. He elbows JJ again, harder this time, pushing him away to give himself space to roll onto his back. His face must show his shock, but he can’t smooth it into anything else.

“Are you insane?” he says.

JJ laughs, but otherwise seems completely serious. “No.”

Yuri’s mouth goes dry. His throat tightens with an emotion he can’t identify. Terror, maybe. Or confusion. Or — from his traitorous heart — _longing_. Because he _does_ want that, though not necessarily with JJ. Well, not with JJ at _all_ , really. In all of his soul-searching on the state of their relationship, Yuri never once considered that. Everything is still too new, too uncertain. It would have been utterly ridiculous to even contemplate a baby, and though Yuri has done many reckless things over the years, he’s very well aware that something like _that_ should require a lot more thought.

“What the fuck would make you think that’s a good idea?”

“The fact that we’re good together,” JJ says.

“We’re not even _together_ ,” Yuri argues, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical tone. “We’ve fucked _three times_.”

“Six, if you want to get technical.”

“Over _three nights_ then, with long breaks in between.”

JJ grins. “So?”

“I don’t even date,” Yuri says.

“We don’t _have_ to date. Dating’s what people do when they’re getting to know each other. We _already_ know each other. We’ve known each other for nine years.”

“ _Seven_.”

“ _Nine_ ,” JJ counters. “We met your first year in Juniors.”

Yuri scoffs. “ _Barely_. We didn’t even talk.”

“Only because you were a moody little brat.”

“And _you_ were an insufferable, pretentious peace of shit.”

JJ lifts his eyes up to the ceiling, tilting his head back and forth as he considers that. Then he shrugs and looks back down at Yuri, completely unconcerned. “Okay, well, we might have got off on the wrong foot, but I think we’re pretty good now. More mature. Surprisingly compatible.”

“That’s a stretch.”

“We’re both water signs. We’ll be perfect.”

Yuri smacks his chest — _hard_. “What the _fuck_ , JJ. We can’t just have a baby because of bullshit astrology.”

“Okay, then what about this.” JJ leans over him. He takes Yuri’s hands to lace their fingers together, staring him in the eye. He looks incredibly sincere. “I want you.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Yuri snaps back.

“No, I mean I _want_ you. Not just for a couple of flings. I want to make out with you whenever the mood strikes. I want to cozy up in bed or on the couch. I want to have sex, and if that’s in hotel rooms for a while, then it’s in hotel rooms. If it’s Saint Petersburg or Montreal. Or _anywhere_. I want to hold your hand and take you to dinner. I want to talk to you more than the scattered texting we’ve been doing. I want to talk _about_ you, because you’re incredible and gorgeous and you make me feel alive. I want to introduce you to my parents.”

“I’ve already met your parents,” Yuri reminds him. It seems easier to focus on that, when the rest of it leaves him a little unnerved — more because of the satisfaction that knowledge brings him than any of the uncertainty he still carries. “We’ve competed against each other for most of my Senior career. I’ve never been able to avoid you. Obviously I can’t avoid _them_. I know your _sister_ , for fuck’s sake.”

“You know my parents as my coaches, and they know you as my rival. I want to stand in front of them and say, ‘This is Yuri, and he’s mine.’”

Yuri stops breathing for a moment. He couldn’t help but question JJ’s intentions before, when they’d not discussed much of anything that’s been happening between them over the last ten months. It’s rather difficult to question it now, with JJ saying these things, and looking at him like he’s never been more sure of anything in his life.

And it’s tempting. More tempting than Yuri’s prepared for. This is _JJ_ , the vain, pompous brute of a skater who began their competitive enouncters by mercilessly teasing him. The senseless _asshole_ and stereotypically smug alpha he would have been glad never to see again until JJ was suddenly gone. Even _this_ , what they have now, _shouldn’t_ be happening. It makes _no_ sense, rooted in previously unfulfilled and oft denied attraction. And _spite_ , because Yuri wanted the upper hand against JJ’s wife.

“We live in two different countries with an entire _ocean_ between us,” Yuri says. “You have a _daughter_. Your divorce isn’t even over yet. Your wife _hates me_ and everyone else will think we’re fucking insane. And we _are_. This shit is complicated enough without adding a _baby_ on top of it.”

“It’s only complicated if we make it complicated. If we don’t _talk_ to each other.”

JJ releases one of Yuri’s hands to stroke over his hair. The rough pads of his fingers skate across Yuri’s forehead. JJ looks so unconcerned, as if what he’s proposing isn’t completely absurd. He must be more fucked in the head than Yuri thought if he’s willing to suggest this with a straight face. Of _course_ they can’t have a baby. Or they _shouldn’t_. There’s nothing rational about it, no matter what other bullshit arguments JJ has in store.

Yet that one comment worms its way into Yuri’s brain. _“I we don’t_ talk _to each other.”_

JJ never talked to his wife, if everything he told Yuri last night is to be believed. And Yuri _does_ believe him, even if Yuri’s skeptical nature makes trusting anyone rather difficult. JJ and Isabella left all of their anger and doubt to silence. They watched their relationship crumble around them, because they were too scared, or too unsure, or too young and inexperienced to know better.

Yuri and Otabek never talked either. Not about the things that mattered most. Not about the things that might have eased some of the heartbreak and bitterness before it had the chance to set in.

But there’s only so much good actually talking about things can do, isn’t there? Being able to hold a conversation about feelings can’t be the only thing that makes a couple suited for parenthood.

“Shouldn’t you find yourself another wife before you go and have more kids?” Yuri sneers.

A short exhale gusts from JJ’s nose. It sounds like a laugh. “Are you offering?”

Yuri tenses. The sudden widening of his eyes is beyond his control. He must look horrified, because JJ laughs and leans down to press a kiss to the tense furrow between Yuri’s eyebrows.

“I’ve done marriage before,” JJ says when he pulls back. “I’m not in any rush to do it again.”

The sentiment is far from reassuring. Yuri forces air back into his lungs, and when his body loosens enough that he can move without jerking awkwardly, Yuri retaliates by whacking at JJ’s shoulder.

JJ catches his hand and places a kiss to Yuri’s palm. “Look, this doesn’t have to mean forever. If you want to sign some sort of legal document as a safeguard, then we’ll do it, but I’m not just going to up and _leave_ if we don’t work out for whatever reason. I’ll support you and a baby in any way you’ll allow me to.”

“JJ, that’s—”

“People co-parent all the time,” JJ says, gently cutting him off. He kisses the tip of each of Yuri’s fingers as he continues. “Either they’re divorced, or they never got married to begin with. Friends have kids with each other. It’s not a big deal.”

 _Not a big deal_ , he says, like a baby wouldn’t change their entire fucking lives.

JJ leans in until their mouths touch. It’s their gentlest kiss yet, barely more than a momentary brush of their lips.

When they part, Yuri looks into JJ’s face — at the strands of his mussed hair falling over his forehead; at his thick eyebrows, the crystalline blue of his eyes, and the eager look found within them; at his lips, swollen temporarily by their impassioned kissing; at the tiny freckle on his cheekbone.

It’s devastating, how handsome JJ is. Even more so because of the way his words seep from Yuri’s brain into his heart, where they rouse all those recently fractured fantasies Yuri’s tried so hard to put to rest.

But perhaps the most devastating thing of all is how easy it would be to agree.

“Do you want to be with me?” JJ asks. “ _Officially_.”

Yuri clamps his mouth shut instead of answering.

Yes, he does, because it makes him feel alive, too. No, he doesn’t, because it still seems impossible that anything of value should come from this. But yes again, because it feels right somehow. It feels good and real. And Yuri knows it’s stupid. He knows it’s dangerous. He knows everything he’s risking simply being involved like this. Months from now — even weeks or days — all of this could fall apart. If not that soon, then surely somewhere in the future. Maybe they’ll last awhile. Maybe longer than Yuri expects, but at some point, their relationship will be tested.

With all their history, Yuri doesn’t know that they’ll come out of it unbroken. How could they? Easier relationships than theirs have failed. They’ve both already proven that.

JJ smiles down at him. “I’ll take your silence to mean the answer’s yes and you don’t want to admit it. Which is fine. I can work with that.”

Yuri scoffs at him and tears his eyes away, glaring into the lamplight until his eyes burn.

Lips make a path down his neck, following the line of his pulse. JJ dips his tongue between Yuri’s collar bones. He sucks another mark into his skin, right at the top of Yuri’s sternum. He mouths over Yuri’s chest until he finds a nipple, teasing it with slow swipes of his tongue and the soft scrape of teeth.

“We can do this, Yuri,” he whispers.

Yuri clenches his teeth around a gasp. His back lifts into the slightest curve, the crown of his head pressing into the pillow beneath him.

JJ diverts his attention to Yuri’s other nipple. “You’d look hot.”

“What?” Yuri says, voice coming out on a wheeze. The breathy sound of it irritates him, as does the speed with which he can feel another surge of arousal building.

“You’d look hot pregnant,” JJ answers.

“What are you, a fucking weirdo with a pregnancy kink?”

Short gusts of air fan along Yuri’s chest as JJ laughs. “Only when the baby’s mine.”

JJ’s scent ignites with desire. Yuri draws it in deeply, writhing beneath him as the scent fills his lungs. It’s intoxicating even now, on a bed completely saturated with it. Again, Yuri _wants_ ; again, he’s almost dizzy with desire. His knees would buckle if he stood, legs still wobbly from his first orgasm.

Kisses make a path down Yuri’s chest. Hands trace his ribs. JJ shifts lower, probing Yuri’s navel with his tongue.

“Think about it,” JJ murmurs against his fluttering stomach.

Yuri has to will his heart not to jump to any stupid decisions. If it were any other dumb idea, he could reject it outright, argue with such spirit JJ would have no choice but to back down. But this is different. This has always been different. And Yuri _hates_ that it’s different. He hates that, though he’s questioned it and argued, he hasn’t been able to say “no.” Not about a baby, or a relationship with JJ. Even if he _knows_ he should. Even if his brain is screaming at him, stressing all the reasons why they’re both absolutely _terrible_ ideas.

By the time JJ’s mouth reaches Yuri’s pelvis, sucking several more bruises into Yuri’s hips and thighs, Yuri’s logic is almost completely drowned out by the hope and longing pulsing through his traitorous heart.

He closes his eyes while JJ makes a feast out of his cock. Yuri’s legs part of their own accord, before the thought to do so has even completely formed. JJ’s hands grasp Yuri’s thighs, holding them open. If their coupling was rushed before, now it’s thorough. JJ takes him apart gradually. Every suck, every lick, every moan, every interlude spent kissing Yuri’s thighs, stroking his hands up Yuri’s sides, every second of it is unhurried — methodical. JJ’s hands don’t find their final positions until Yuri’s moaning uncontrollably, head lolling as he sinks his fingers into JJ tousled hair, begging without words for JJ to take him over the edge.

One hand grabs Yuri’s hip, forcing him to still. The other falls between Yuri’s legs. JJ fingers him, deep but leisurely, and Yuri’s wetter than he thinks he’s ever been, trembling with need.

He comes down JJ’s throat, around his searching fingers. This second orgasm is not as intense at the first, but the slow rise and rapid fall make it just as satisfying. JJ kisses Yuri’s stomach through the aftershocks, until Yuri grabs him and hauls him up, pulling JJ over him to taste his own come on JJ’s tongue.

Yuri strokes JJ’s cock with urgency instead of restraint. JJ comes in his hand, muffling the sounds of his pleasure against Yuri’s shoulder.

They sleep after. Yuri drifts off before he’s prepared to, once JJ has settled onto the mattress beside him. The room is still sweltering with the remnants of their passion when Yuri’s eyes close. It’s not difficult to let his mind and body shut down. He grows heavy. His thoughts cease. The last thing Yuri hears is JJ’s deep breathing. The last thing he feels is JJ’s wedding ring against the side of his neck.

The growing chill of the room wakes Yuri later. Minutes or hours, it’s hard to tell when he’s paid no attention to the time. All that keeps him warm is a thin sheet and JJ’s body heat. The lamp is still on, it’s light harsh to Yuri’s tired eyes.

He stumbles from the bed to trip his way to the bathroom, legs weak from two rounds of sex and inadequate sleep. Yuri knows he should shower, or, at the very least, wash what remains of his makeup from his face, but after using the toilet, Yuri does nothing more than use a damp washcloth to clean himself up.

Shivering on the way out, Yuri searches the room for something to wear. His clothes are scattered about — coat by the door still, dress shirt somewhere with it, leggings out of sight, probably hiding over the other side of the bed. Yuri retrieves his phone but leaves the rest where it is. There’s a University of Toronto hoodie tossed over an armchair, a bit faded and worn, but still soft and warm when Yuri pulls it on. It smells as strongly of JJ as the bedding does.

Yuri pauses by the side of the bed before he can climb back in.

JJ sleeps on his back, chest rising and falling in time with his deep, even breathing. In slumber, JJ looks particularly serene — lips parted ever so slightly, lashes dark atop his cheekbones, thick brows at ease, forehead smooth, no sign of tension on his slack face. He sleeps with his head turned toward the vacancy Yuri left on the mattress. JJ’s hands rest against his chest, one above the other.

It isn’t hard to imagine JJ reclining just like this, at home in Montreal with Melody fast asleep on top of him.

Unexpectedly, Yuri’s thoughts change course, as his mind slowly begins to ally itself with his heart. A memory surfaces — new, but one Yuri knows he’ll favor for quite some time. He thinks of JJ at the banquet, staring at the images of Melody on his phone.

It’s the sort of expression Yuri always wanted to see grace Otabek’s face, every time he thought of what their children might look like.

JJ’s eyes slip open. A slow smile spreads across his face when he sees Yuri standing there.

“You look good in my clothes.”

Yuri snorts and complains, “It’s freezing.”

JJ says nothing more, simply holds an arm out in invitation.

There’s no scoffing or eye rolling, no jokes or teasing remarks. Yuri drops his phone onto the bedside table, turns off the lamp, and crawls into bed. He pulls the sheet and blanket further over them both, then settles against JJ, who presses a kiss to Yuri’s forehead and winds an arm around him.

They sleep until rays of morning sunlight stream through a gap in the drapes. At first, they laze about in the stillness, quiet and peaceful, exchanging kisses but no words. Their hands make idle explorations, more to enjoy the feel of warm skin than to arouse. Then they both seem to arrive at the same conclusion, and their actions become more deliberate, as they fully wake to take advantage of their last few hours together.

Yuri rides JJ, hips rolling slow but taking him deep, until they’re both desperate for release, and JJ’s hands grasp his hips with bruising force. JJ doesn’t ask if he can knot him again. Once Yuri comes, JJ’s hips snap up into him, hard and frantic until they’re locked together.

And when Yuri whites out again, he lets himself drift back to that image of a surly little boy with dark hair and eyes. It might not be so bad, he decides, if that boy has thick eyebrows and a wide smile instead.

Or maybe the child _isn’t_ a boy, but a little girl like Melody, and Lidiya, and Karina, and Luna, with gorgeous blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and bright, mischievous laughter.

Later, Yuri returns to his room to pack his things, still wrapped in JJ’s hoodie, with JJ’s wedding ring dangling from his necklace. As Yuri tosses random items into his suitcases, he considers his birth control, but chooses, perhaps foolishly, not to take it, shoving it far down beneath his clothes, where it remains until he tosses it into the trash at home.

* * *

 **JJ Gossip** @jjgossipwhore - 34m

My heart is broken

[A screenshot of a headline that reads: “Love is officially dead. JJ Leroy and wife Isabella Yang are heading for divorce.”]

5:14 PM - 12 Dec 2022

 **51** Retweets    **149** Likes

 

 **forever mrs. leroy** @totalbabe1213 - 26m

Replying to @jjgossipwhore

This picture looks even more suspicious now

[The selfie Yuri posted of him and JJ at the banquet.]

 

 **Lex @ gpf hype** @fluffmasterxd - 23m

Don’t forget this one

[The picture of JJ and Yuri walking through the restaurant parking lot.]

 

 **JJ’s Girl** @babyb00luv - 18m

At most they’re boning

Long time rivals having aggressive hate sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are amazing and comments are endlessly motivating!
> 
> Also feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/merrily-merrily) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MerryMerrily). I'm _way_ more active on Twitter. I usually just post on Tumblr when I have a story update, otherwise I avoid it because I find Tumblr kind of meh.


	4. If You Asked Me To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri has absolutely no idea what he's doing. And JJ, despite his confident demeanor, really isn't any better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the menstruation tag.

"Used to be that I believed in something,  
Used to be that I believed in love.  
It's been a long time since I've had that feeling,  
I could love someone,  
I could trust someone.

  
I said I'd never let nobody near my heart again, darlin',  
I said I'd never let nobody in..."

\- ["If You Ask Me To" by Celine Dion ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2AKlkNILU1Y)

* * *

 

  

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home         [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)         Cats         Personal         Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **(no subject)**
> 
> POSTED ON 14 DECEMBER 2022
> 
>  
> 
> I want to have a baby.
> 
> There. My deepest, darkest secret has finally been revealed to you. (I think you’ve gotten hints of it, but this is the first time I’ve ever written “If I don’t have a baby sometime within the next two years, I think I might die from disappointment.”)
> 
> This is my greatest shame. I’m supposed to be this angry, cold-hearted bitch, ready to tear people to shreds the moment they expose themselves as the fuckers they are (which is pretty much 85% of the world’s population).
> 
> But babies make me feel soft. They make my insides all warm and gooey. It’s so fucking stupid. Why is this happening to me? Why why why? This is terrible. My reputation will never be the same.
> 
> Every time I so much as imply that I want a baby to anyone offline, people look at me like, “But, Yulia… what the fuck???”
> 
> Hey. Fuck you. What the fuck is wrong with that?
> 
> These are some of the same people who would have pulled the “you’ll change your mind when you’re older” shit back when I used to think kids were the spawn of Satan. Now they’re going to act like I’m stupid for having a different opinion.
> 
> Isn’t this what they wanted??? Shouldn’t they be latching onto my change of heart as proof that all the bullshit they fed me before was accurate???
> 
> Trust me, nothing pains me more than knowing any of you fuckers can say, “I told you so.”
> 
> Fuck off. You told me nothing. All you did was repeat the same sexist shit over and over again.
> 
> So _what_ if I changed my damned mind??? It happens. You know what also happens??? Some people _don’t_ change their minds. Because _guess what_. Life is weird as fuck and no two people are the same (although, in my experience, most of them share a general element of douchebaggery). There’s nothing wrong with either decision, so mind your own fucking business and leave me the fuck alone.
> 
> But yes, fuck it. I want to have a baby.
> 
> I want to have a baby _so_ much, sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep because I’m sad and lonely and impatient, I spend hours researching sperm banks online. I do it when I’m exhausted and still somewhat out of it, so later I can pretend it was a dream.
> 
> I once bought a baby outfit because it was cute and there were cats all over it, and instead of offering it as a gift for my nephew or one of my nieces, I hid it away at the bottom of my dresser for my future offspring.
> 
> I’ve given my brother and sister-in-law gift cards to nice restaurants and told them I’ll watch the kids while they go out for a dinner date, not because I want to give my brother and sister-in-law time alone, but because _I_ want time alone with their babies.
> 
> I bought a book over the summer. “The Single Omega’s Guide to Childrearing.” I read it in a day and a half. I keep it in my nightstand drawer where people usually keep their condoms and sex toys. I have a few passages marked with sticky notes.
> 
> Fuck me and my life and everything, honestly.
> 
> I shouldn’t compare wanting a baby to wanting a cat because it’s way more involved than that, but you know how when your cat does something stupid and you’re like “you’re the cutest fucker I’ve ever seen,” or you’re out and you see a cat somewhere and suddenly you would give anything to take that cat home and feed it and love it and protect it and take care of it for the rest of its life because cats are perfect and innocent and you can’t imagine why anyone would neglect them or hurt them or abandon them????
> 
> Okay, well, that’s me with cats, at least. And also me with babies. It’s been that way for almost five years now, and I feel like I’m either going to combust or do something really stupid.
> 
> Like have sex off my birth control and leave it all up to chance.
> 
> Fuck fuck fuck.
> 
> Fuuuuuuuuuck. Why am I like this?
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Yulia is a dumbfuck

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri at what appears to be an airport. He has a leopard print scarf raised over the lower half of his face, but from the look in his eyes, one can assume that he’s smiling.]

**33,076 likes**

Goodbye Colorado Springs. It’s been fun #gpf2022 #coloradosprings #winner #gold #travel

 **+guanghongji+** COME BACK SOON I MISS YOU ALREADY  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ It’s your turn to come to Saint Petersburg  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky You’re going to make me travel with a baby??? : <  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Am I not worth it?  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky …….  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Whore  
**Jjleroy!15** Have a safe flight, be good, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, etc etc etc  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 You’d do a lot though wouldn’t you?  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Probably yeah  
**georgipopo** Pavel and Lidiya miss you!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @georgipopo And you don’t?  
**georgipopo** @yuri_plisetsky I thought that would be obvious

DECEMBER 12

* * *

Yuri has never stared so intently at his trash can.

There’s nothing remarkable about it at all. It’s basic black plastic, because white shows too much dirt, stainless steel looks stupid in trash can form, _especially_ in his old kitchen, and every other color Yuri’s ever found when he actually cares to _look_ at trash cans has been revolting. Turquoise. Or lime green. Or the same color brown as shit. Yuri doesn’t clean his as much as he knows he should; looking at it too closely will reveal a couple of crusty stains on the lid. Occasionally, he’s too lazy to take the trash out when it gets full, and the lid won’t close properly until Lilia stops by and stares in disapproval, at which point Yuri will finally get off of his ass and do something about it.

Yuri has it wedged into an awkward gap between the refrigerator and the wall. Sideways, because it won’t fit otherwise. Even then, it’s a little too wide. It blocks a sliver of the doorway, which means Yuri has to duck around it every time he crosses into or out of the kitchen. Yuri tolerates the obstacle because Potya’s litter box is tucked into the space meant for the trash.

It being visible from the living-room was never an issue before. Now, Yuri finds himself glancing over at it once every hour. Or more, depending on how effective his distractions are.

His birth control is in there, beneath remnants of the takeout he got for dinner, and a paper towel he used to clean up a furball from the back of the couch. ( _Why_ Potya couldn’t expel that onto the old wood flooring instead of Yuri’s halfway decent furniture is a question that will likely never be answered, though Yuri wouldn’t put it past her to do it on purpose if his absence displeased her.)

He could dig the packet of pills out if he had to. He almost does at least four times that day — once after tossing it into the trash can during his half-hearted attempt at unpacking his suitcases; once when his thigh bumped into the trash can on his way out of the kitchen with a cup of tea; once while he sat on the couch with his laptop, his fingers frozen over the keys when an ad for a pregnancy test showed up on the website he was busy scrolling through; and once, most recently, when he returned from the basement after switching his laundry from one of the washing machines into a dryer.

Yuri’s stomach churns with indecision.

It was stupid of him not to take it. He didn’t even tell JJ, he just discarded the packet and went about his day. Certainly not the most ethical thing to do, even if JJ _did_ make the offer. They should really talk about it in depth. Something like this requires long, careful planning. More than a spur of the moment tempting of fate. Yuri can’t even say he actually _made_ the decision to stop taking it. Not a proper one, anyway. He didn’t think at all when he packed up his belongings; he acted entirely on impulse, like he wasn’t in control of himself at the time.

He should take an emergency contraceptive. JJ was absolutely insane for even _suggesting_ they have a baby together. He must have somehow infected Yuri with his insanity. That’s the only explanation Yuri can come up with. JJ stuck his knot in him and turned Yuri’s brain to mush, and some of that careless spontaneity seeped in when Yuri was too fucked out to formulate a better argument.

They haven’t even gone public. JJ’s official statement went out during Yuri’s first flight home. Technically, that was two days ago, but with half of that time spent traveling, it only feels as if it’s been a day. The internet has been rife with obsessive JJ Girl chatter since the very first headline. When Yuri looks deeply enough, he can already find his own name tossed into the mix of speculation.

He still has too many people to tell. Not Yakov and Lilia, thankfully; they gave him a lecture on prudence during the ride to the airport. Not Mila either, who began flooding Yuri’s phone with texts before he’d even landed in Saint Petersburg. Someone might have tipped her off. Probably Sophie. Or Emil and Mickey. Maybe someone else at the banquet that night; Mila has friends everywhere. Whatever the case, she hasn’t let up. “Have I been wrong about your type this whole time??? ” she wants to know.

Yuri doesn’t answer. He’d rather not deal with Mila’s meddling yet.

But the rest of his “family” — they need to know. Georgi and Nadya probably won’t think too much of it. If anything, they’ll be happy he’s finally making an effort to see someone. Viktor and Yuuri might react with some confusion; Viktor because he still likes to pretend he has no idea who JJ is even though they follow one another on social media, and Yuuri because he’s been around for enough of Yuri’s rants over the years that he probably didn’t think this was a possibility. Yuri has to tell Deda, too, before the rumors increase in number and Deda overhears the neighbors gossiping.

And Otabek. That’s a thing that has to happen. _Soon_. Before JJ gets around to telling Isabella.

Yuri looks from his trash can to his laptop to the cell phone next to his thigh.

He picks the phone up. Unlocks it. Opens his text conversation with Otabek.

They haven’t exchanged many messages since that Skype call before the Final. Just a few during the competition. _“You looked good_ ,” Otabek would say, to which Yuri would respond, _“Thanks.”_ Or Otabek would send a simple _“Davai,”_ and Yuri would answer with a thumbs up.

Yuri hates the tension. He hates the long silences. They’ve never behaved like this before, not once in the last seven years. Otabek should be sending him music. Yuri should be responding with pictures of Potya. They should be talking about Yuri’s programs. Otabek should be sharing stories from the club. Yuri should be nagging at him, _“Stop smoking”_ or _“Why aren’t you asleep?”_ or _“Don’t make me text your mother.”_

The distance is killing him more than the concern for Otabek’s reaction. Whatever’s happened between them these last few years, Otabek is still his best friend. Yuri can’t lose that. They’ve been through too much together.

He isn’t sorry at all. Not in the least. At most, he’s upset that it caused a rift. But it’s what Otabek wants to hear, and Yuri will give him that if it means they can go back to the way things were.

For twenty minutes, there’s no response. Yuri passes the time catching up on social media. The last time he looked was an hour ago, so there isn’t much more to see. Guang Hong’s posted a mid-morning picture of Luna. Chris has posted video of his three-year-old son Elias chasing the cat.

Yuri’s stomach gives another nervous twist when his phone finally vibrates.

It’s another apology issued out of obligation rather than sincerity. Otabek has always valued his privacy, and he’s grown increasingly more exasperated by the feud the longer Yuri and Isabella have kept it going. He wouldn’t want to talk about Isabella with Yuri, no matter _what_ he got up to with her. Yuri’s only consolation is that Otabek probably doesn’t tell Isabella anything about him either.

A minute later, the call tone sounds from his laptop. Yuri scrambles to get comfortable. He slides onto the floor in front of the couch and sets his laptop onto the coffee table, tilting the screen to an appropriate angle before accepting the call.

Otabek looks the same as he always does — expression neutral, dark eyes serious, in a black hoodie and sweats. He hasn’t sported the undercut for the last three years. His hair is a little shaggy now, falling over his forehead, just starting to creep over the tops of his ears. He’s probably due for a trim soon.

“Hey,” Yuri says, picking at a dent along the edge of the coffee table.

“How was your flight back?” Otabek asks.

That’s so like him, jumping straight into the conversation without a greeting, as if they haven’t spent two weeks being cool and distant with one another. It would be a comfort under less nerve-wracking circumstances.

“Fine, I guess.”

“Did you have a good time in Colorado Springs?”

Yuri digs his thumbnail deeper into the wood. He should really cut his nails. They’re getting longer than he usually tolerates. Otabek can probably hear the scraping through the speakers.

What kind of question is that anyway? _Did he have a good time_. He took gold at the Final. Shouldn’t that be answer enough? It’s his third straight after the long drought that followed his first win at the age of fifteen. Of course, he often dismisses the gold he won in 2020. That wasn’t a fair victory, with JJ unable to complete his free skate.

Unless Otabek’s referring to something else. The evidence has to be visible through the screen. Beard burn, soothed for now with aloe. Hickeys along his neck, unmistakable for anything else. Not the logo on JJ’s hoodie, thankfully. That’s hidden by Yuri’s raised knees, but the hoodie’s comically large on his thin frame and obviously not one of his own.

“Look, Beka…” Yuri begins after an uncomfortably long pause. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He lifts his gaze from the coffee table to look at Otabek, whose expression hasn’t changed at all since the call connected. There’s no suspicion or anger. No annoyance. He looks at Yuri the way he always has — stoic, but also, if Yuri searches his eyes enough, with restrained affection.

“Yura, I already know,” Otabek says.

Yuri’s brow furrows with confusion. “Know what?”

“You’re seeing JJ.”

Yuri tenses. His throat goes a little dry. Some of the color probably drains from his face. His eyes widen before he can school his expression. His chest feels tight, lungs suddenly incapable of holding any air.

“ _What_? How did you…” Yuri struggles to get his thoughts in working order. “Did he tell you?” He can’t imagine JJ would say anything. Not yet. Not when he knows Otabek’s a touchy subject. “Or did he tell…”

His eyes flick toward the apartment door like he expects Isabella will show up at any moment, ready to chop him into bits with a meat cleaver. He would have hoped Otabek would at least give him some sort of warning, but maybe he’s still angrier than his expression implies.

“No one told me anything,” Otabek says. “I just know you. I figured it out when you got back from the Cup of China.”

That was over a month ago. Otabek’s known all this time? And he didn’t say anything? He’s had JJ’s wife in his apartment for fuck knows how long, and he hasn’t brought any of it up with Yuri? Not even after Yuri said all those spiteful things?

“But… _how_?”

“I’ve suspected you’ve been seeing someone for a while. You had sex at the Olympics. That much was obvious the morning after.”

Yuri starts scraping at the dent in the coffee table again.

“Then you were distant when I was in Saint Petersburg over the summer.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t initiate sex,” Otabek reminds him. It doesn’t sound accusatory. He’s being as blunt and unbiased as he usually is. “You turned me down when I tried.”

“Well, I…” Yuri trails off.

He hadn’t realized. He thought things were normal over the summer. They played video games. They went out to eat or ordered takeout without any concern for their usual diets. They hit up some of the more popular clubs — just the two of them this time, without Mila there to join them. Otabek rented a motorcycle and they drove around for hours, going everywhere and nowhere at once.

No, they didn’t have sex. Yuri didn’t think anything of it at the time. He simply wasn’t in the mood. It’s not like they had sex every night during their previous visits. Maybe once or twice, when they were drunk or horny and had no other outlet.

“You’d clearly been with someone again at the Cup of China,” Otabek continues. “I could see the evidence over Skype. I assumed it was the same person seeing as you’ve always been socially reluctant and unlikely to sleep around.”

“But—”

“It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Who was at the Olympics _and_ the Cup of China?”

“Lots of people,” Yuri argues.

“But who have you had regular contact with? You haven’t expanded your social circle in years. You don’t like change. You’ve had the same habits for most of your life. You’re withdrawn in public. You decided who you felt comfortable with your first year at the Senior level, and you’ve been indifferent to everyone else ever since.”

“I could’ve made an exception.”

Otabek’s already flat expression flattens even further into one of incredulity. “You’ve always had a weird connection with JJ. At first I thought you might be doing it to spite Bella, but looking back… there’s been tension between you and JJ since the very beginning. I’m not convinced all of it was anger on your part.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything.”

“That’s just a normal rash on your face then?”

Yuri’s mouth drops into a sulky frown. He sets his chin on top of his knees and glares at Otabek. Damn him. Damn him and his keen eyes and his sensible thought process.

“So your secret lover was someone in our group of friends who has facial hair. You’re not attracted to omegas, so it couldn’t be Chris. Emil wouldn’t cheat on Mickey.”

“JJ wouldn’t cheat on his wife,” Yuri grumbles.

“JJ was separated from his wife. I’ve known that for a while, too.”

“He told you?”

“Bella did,” Otabek says. “After Melody was born. It was hard on her. She didn’t think anyone else would understand.”

Yuri huffs an irritated breath into his knees. Of course she’d talk to Otabek if she thought getting pregnant was a mistake. Otabek doesn’t want kids. Out of everyone, he’d be the most likely to commiserate with her. She probably spilled her guts to him. Otabek might not share much of himself, but he’s a good listener. He gives good advice.

Otabek smoothly returns to the previous topic. “I was already sure it was JJ, but when Bella told you about the divorce, that proved it. She didn’t notice because she doesn’t know you like I do. You grew quiet and you looked nervous right after she said it.”

“But you didn’t look suspicious at all.”

“And that surprises you?”

No, it doesn’t. Otabek is notoriously difficult to read, especially when he’s making an effort to shield his thoughts. Yuri’s always felt that he could read Otabek better than everyone else, given how close they’ve become. Apparently, he was wrong to assume.

That hurts. Just a little. He shouldn’t be upset by it because Otabek doesn’t mean it personally. He trusts Yuri with more of himself than he does most other people. He’s told Yuri things he hasn’t even shared with the friends he’s known longer. His struggles. His fears. The unease he feels when he considers his future. The pressure he’s been under as a national hero. And Yuri always reciprocates; their troubles and concerns have often been the same.

Yuri hates being at odds with him. He hates when something disturbs the harmony between them. Otabek was the first person who really wanted to be his friend. It wasn’t out of habit or convenience. Otabek was truly interested. He admired Yuri. He strove to be Yuri’s equal. And he was, after a time. They did a lot of their growing on the Senior circuit together.

“Your exhibition program,” Otabek says, “and the picture you posted from the banquet... I didn’t need either of those to know I was right.”

“Thanks for letting me know I’ve been so obvious about it,” Yuri gripes.

“You could’ve been more subtle. Bella noticed the picture. She wanted to confront JJ about it, but I convinced her not to. I told her you were probably doing it to piss her off and she shouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

Yuri’s face creases with distaste. “Well, I’m not sorry.”

A heavy sigh comes through the speakers, the only other sound Otabek’s made throughout this entire conversation. “If that’s why you’ve been seeing JJ—”

“You still think I’m trying to get back at her?”

“You obviously didn’t know they were done until Bella said something,” Otabek responds. Even now, it isn’t accusatory. His voice gentles somewhat, like he’s trying to be reassuring while calling Yuri out on his shit at the same time.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to break them up. Yeah, okay, maybe I was being a little spiteful and I felt smug about it after the fact, but that wasn’t the only reason I fucked him.”

“So this is romantic then.”

Yuri’s throat closes again. He swallows to loosen it, but he’s only partially successful. “I…”

There’s something consoling about Otabek’s gaze even as his mouth remains pressed into a straight line. “I’m not going to judge you for it if you say yes.”

He _can’t_ say “yes.” Even if it might be true. Even if he’s slowly growing to accept it. It’s such a ridiculous notion. Anyone who might have thought he and JJ were suited for one another had to be completely mad. For most of the last seven years, there was nothing between them that could be mistaken for romance. Even when JJ flirted with him. Even when Yuri put on the act and flirted back. At most, there was a sense of rivalry coupled with reluctant acceptance — JJ, the good natured tease, and Yuri, the quick tempered opposition.

But he can’t say “no” either. That would be a lie, and Yuri doesn’t usually make a habit of lying to Otabek. He and JJ have each passed into adulthood. They’ve matured, no longer the foolish teenagers they once were. Yuri can’t deny the attraction, physical or emotional. He wants everything JJ has to offer. The security. The loyalty. The reverence with which JJ treats him when they’re alone and free from expectations, not bound to keep up appearances. The comfort. The calm that settles over them when they’re sated, quiet in the aftermath.

And that offer, which creeps into the back of Yuri’s mind when he has no suitable distraction.

Yuri chooses not to answer, asking instead, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“I was waiting for you to tell me on your own,” Otabek says.

“Well, I have now. I’m seeing JJ. We’ve fucked and we’re going to keep fucking and I might like him more than I wanted to.”

“Okay. Just… don’t do anything rash. Make sure JJ tells Bella before you go public.”

Yuri releases a sigh that rustles the hair in front of his face. He lifts a hand to comb it back, scratching at his scalp as he does so.

His nerves ease by a fraction. His posture loosens. He changes positions until he’s sitting cross-legged, his former defensiveness bleeding away. Potya comes over to drape herself over one thigh, purring when his hand lowers to sink into her fur.

“JJ wouldn’t do anything until he’s talked to her,” Yuri argues.

“No, but _you_ might.”

There’s no judgement in Otabek’s voice. It’s more light than exasperated, like he’s vaguely amused even if he knows he shouldn’t be.

“Nice hoodie,” he adds, smirking ever so slightly.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “You’re an asshole.”

“Did you steal that or did he offer it to you?”

JJ didn’t say anything about it, but Yuri can’t have stolen it since JJ was aware. If anything, it was an unspoken agreement between them. JJ likes seeing him in it, and Yuri feels comfortable wearing it. It’s warm and it smells like JJ and Yuri’s always been partial to loser clothing.

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri grumbles.

He can’t be sure because it’s so quiet, but he thinks Otabek might chuckle in response.

Any remaining tension recedes then. They put all talk of JJ and Isabella on hold; Yuri doesn’t mention JJ’s crazy idea, and Isabella doesn’t interrupt again. Some semblance of normalcy returns to their interactions. They discuss the Final. Yuri bemoans having to travel again so soon for Nationals. He talks about seeing Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina again, and he complains about Viktor’s annoying behavior. He lifts Potya up so Otabek can see her, cursing Otabek when he comments, “She’s getting fat.”

Otabek sends a new mix and shares amusing stories about his friends in Almaty. He gives Yuri updates about his family, passing along well wishes from his parents and older sisters. Then he grumbles when he discloses his mother’s complaints about his smoking, to which Yuri responds, “Listen to her. That shit’s not good for you. You should know better, you dumb fuck. I’ll keep nagging you about it until you quit. I got Deda to stop and he’s a stubborn old man. I can get you to stop, too.”

They talk for over an hour — almost two — the way they always have since they first became friends. Nothing about it seems strained or awkward. Yuri laughs openly. A little more warmth creeps into Otabek’s expression. It’s as if nothing has changed. Those two weeks of near silence might’ve never occurred.

But there’s no more longing on Yuri’s part. There’s no hopelessness or heart-wrenching disappointment, and when they finally disconnect, none of the loneliness settles in.

Yuri sighs and lets relief wash over him. Things will be different now, he’s sure, but none of the changes will disrupt their good rapport. They can still be friends, the way they always should have been, before sex and infatuation turned their relationship into a complicated mess.

Compulsively, Yuri’s eyes flick back to the trash can.

 _“Don’t do anything rash,”_ Otabek said, and though he meant something completely different, the sentiment would probably be the same — if not more insistent — if he knew what Yuri was chancing.

He should dig his birth control out, or pick up another pack. He should get an emergency contraceptive. Nationals are next week. Europeans are next month. The World Championships are at the end of March. This isn’t a good time to get pregnant, not if he wants to finish the rest of the season. He should wait. See his doctor. Figure out what his best option would be. _Talk to JJ_.

But Yuri doesn’t do any of those things. He shuts his computer and leaves to retrieve his laundry from the basement. When he returns, he carries Potya into the bedroom, where he curls up with her and sends a demanding text to JJ.

JJ indulges him, and the new photos join the hundreds Yuri has of Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri crouched low to the floor in the Special Care Nursery. Pavel has his arms looped around Yuri’s neck from behind, grinning from ear to ear. Yuri has one arm curled around Lidiya, a girl of one and a half with light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He cradles Karina in his other arm, with an ease that almost makes it seem as if he was never uncomfortable holding a baby. She no longer has the feeding tube.]

**57,678 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** My good luck charms #babypopo1 #babypopo2 #babyviktuuri #teamrussia

  
**nadya_polunina** Good luck at nationals!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @nadya_polunina I’ll wipe the floor with everyone else  
**mila-babicheva** Mama Yura strikes again  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva I’m going to leave snarky comments on all of your posts after you give birth  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky No you won’t. You’ll be too busy stealing my baby  
**phichit+chu** Good luck Yura!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu :P  
**Jjleroy!15** You’re so doting  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 You have no idea  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva They don’t piss me off so yeah I’m gonna dote on them  
**+guanghongji+** You’re gonna kick ass!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Naturally  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ PS I demand more pics of Luna

DECEMBER 18

* * *

Yuri bleeds during Nationals.

Not a lot. Not nearly as much as he does during a regular period. It’s little more than spotting, a few small stains in his underwear over a span of two days, before it stops altogether. The cramps that accompany it are the mildest he’s ever felt, and aside from a headache the day between his short program and free skate, no other symptoms occur. No bloating. No fatigue. No increased moodiness. His cravings don’t vacillate between sweet and salty the way they usually do. Pimples dot his chin, but Yuri blames that on not washing the makeup from his face before JJ’s stubble scraped at his skin.

He Googles the issue to make absolutely sure it’s nothing of concern, then promptly panics. It _could_ be a result of his cycles returning to normal after stopping his birth control, which would be fine, or he could be experiencing implantation bleeding.

He could be pregnant. _Right now_. Before he’s thought it through. He could have just made the most reckless decision of his entire life.

When he returns to Saint Petersburg with another gold medal to add to his collection, Yuri buys three different pregnancy tests and paces around his apartment for a few minutes while he waits for the results.

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

It’s far from reassuring.

It’s probably too early. What if he takes another test a week from now and the results are different? What should he do?

Stupid question. _Obviously_ he’d keep the baby. He’s wanted one long enough that he wouldn’t even consider terminating the pregnancy, whether or not he actually meant for this to happen. He would do what was necessary. Confess to JJ, first and foremost, and hope it wouldn’t throw a wrench into things. JJ offered and he seemed serious about it, so he shouldn’t be too bothered by Yuri’s actions. Maybe. It’s hard to say for sure. Yuri has no idea what goes on in JJ’s head. They should have discussed this more before leaving Colorado Springs. Yuri should have told him about the birth control as soon as he threw it away.

He takes three more tests a few days later.

Negative.

Negative.

Negative.

Still, he doesn’t take much comfort from them, especially when a thread of disappointment winds into his relief.

But it pushes him forward. He can’t keep JJ a secret any longer. If their relationship is going to be as serious as it seems, his friends and family need to know. He’s kept it to himself too long already. Soon, Mila won’t be able to contain herself; she’ll blab to someone. Besides, the rumors are still circulating, buried far beneath the mourning for “JJBella, every JJ Girl’s relationship goals,” but still present if he bothers to look for it.

The Friday before New Year’s finds Yuri at Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment with the rest of his makeshift family. It’s a particularly joyous occasion, because Karina has finally been released from the hospital.

She’s passed from person to person. Yakov, the smitten grandfather. Lilia, the stern but nurturing grandmother. Viktor and Yuuri, the watchful mother and the gentle father. Kenjirou and Vasiliy, the chipper family friends. Nadya and Georgi, the experienced aunt and uncle. Pavel and Lidiya, the young cousins, enamored with the new baby.

And Yuri, the baby hungry omega he never wanted to be.

His scent gives him away. Every time he has Karina in his arms, at least one of his companions regards him with a knowing smile.

Yuri watches Georgi coo at the baby for a while, then takes a deep breath and announces, without preamble, “So... I’m seeing someone.”

He’s met with varied looks of surprise and excitement. Yakov and Lilia hardly react, given that they’ve already been informed. Georgi looks shocked, but Nadya’s face breaks out into a sunny smile. Viktor’s eyes brighten like he can barely contain his excitement, while Yuuri’s expression settles into something that looks like confusion mixed with repressed glee. Kenjirou and Vasiliy simply look curious. Perhaps there’s some amusement on Vasiliy’s part, but Yuri ignores it.

“You are?” Nadya asks, voice high with enthusiasm. “Who? Do we know them? I assume they’re another skater.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. He’s reminded of Otabek’s observations and suddenly hates that he’s so predictable.

“I don’t know if you’ve met,” he says. “But… yeah. I’m seeing JJ.”

Vasiliy snorts, which Yuri responds to with a glare. Viktor’s expression falls, suddenly perplexed. A meager furrow appears between Yuuri’s eyebrows. He must have been expecting someone else. Otabek, most likely. Yuri isn’t sorry to disappoint him.

“Oh!” Nadya gasps. Apparently she’s the only one capable of speech. “The really famous one! I met him at Mila and Sara’s wedding. He’s very charming.” Her hazel eyes spark perceptively. “Handsome, too. I love his music. He has an amazing voice.”

Pavel glances up from the floor, feet kicking back and forth in the air as he plays games on his iPad. “Are you getting married?”

Yuri stares at him, appalled by the very thought. “Pashenka, no. It’s not that serious.”

“Mila got married,” Pavel says, like Mila’s fate makes marriage the most obvious conclusion to any relationship.

“Mila’s been with Sara for a long time.”

Viktor finally pipes up. “JJ who?”

Yakov and Lilia meet Viktor’s clueless expression with exasperation. Lilia actually brings a hand up to rub at her temples. Yakov simply grumbles, “Vitya, you have to be joking.”

Yuri sneers, “You know who he is, dumbass,” at the same time Yuuri says, “Jean-Jacques Leroy,” as if Viktor needs to hear the name in full, the way it’s always been announced over the loudspeakers in every arena.

“Leroy?” Viktor says. Yuri can practically see the gears turning in his otherwise empty head. Finally, Viktor seems to come to his senses. “Oh. _Oh_. Really?” He stares at Yuri in disbelief. “ _Why_?”

Yuri takes that to mean Viktor disapproves of his choice, so he grounds out, “He’s one of the few people on this Earth who are worthy of me.”

“How is he worthy of you?”

“He has an impressive competitive record and an established career outside of competition.”

“He’s not so impressive these days, is he?” Vasiliy says.

Beside him, Kenjirou winces. He shifts away when Yuri turns another dark glare on Vasiliy, like he doesn’t want to be associated with his impudent training mate. Quietly, he mutters "Idiot" in Japanese.

Yuri seethes. In his lap, his hands curl into fists. He’d like to jump across the coffee table and throttle the mouthy brat, but he holds himself back. If this self-aggrandizing little prick thinks he can get Yuri to lose control, he’s got another thing coming. Yuri didn’t spend seven years dealing with JJ’s arrogant shit without learning a thing or two about composure, even if it _is_ difficult for him to maintain for long.

“Sorry, _who_ has more World medals than you?” Yuri asks, voice thick with contempt. “Not to mention his Olympic record.”

“I have Olympic gold, too,” Vasiliy says.

“That you won through the team event because me, Mila, and our pairs team dominated the _shit_ out of it,” Yuri reminds him. “JJ has silver from the team event in Sochi and two gold medals from Pyeongchang. I think he’s done pretty well for himself.”

“This is the guy you’ve always thrown tantrums about. Now you’re suddenly defending his honor?”

“Against a pretentious jackass like you? Fuck yeah.”

“Yura, those are bad words,” Pavel sing-songs.

By the toy box in the corner of the room, Lidiya remains completely unconcerned, stacking blocks into a tower.

Vasiliy snorts again. “I can’t be any more pretentious than a guy who calls himself King.”

Yuuri gently cuts in. “He’s let up on that these days.”

“You’re dating someone for their career?” Viktor asks, oblivious to the entire confrontation that just took place before his very eyes.

“Why else would I bother?” Yuri says.

He’s not about to wax poetic. He won’t agree with Nadya that JJ’s handsome, even if that's exactly what he thinks. He won’t tell _anyone_ about how he feels when he and JJ are alone, not even Otabek, because it’s embarrassing and it isn’t anyone’s business anyway. He refuses to admit how sweet JJ can be, or how good he is in bed. _No one_ needs to know what Yuri really likes about him. They’re lucky he’s telling them about the relationship at all.

Viktor looks shocked by Yuri’s nonchalance. “Because you like them? Because you like the way you feel when you’re with them?”

“Vitya…” Yuuri gives Viktor’s ankle a gentle kick. When Viktor glances at him, Yuuri stares meaningfully.

“Oh,” Viktor says. He turns back to Yuri, eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s… unexpected.”

“ _I_ think it’s wonderful,” Nadya beams.

Georgi releases a dreamy sigh. “Oh, to be young and in love.”

“Don’t you _want_ to get married?” Pavel asks.

Lilia presses her fingers to her temples again. She whispers something under her breath. To Yuri, it sounds a lot like, “Holy Mother, give me strength.” Yakov pats her shoulder, but he looks close to ripping the rest of his hair out, so it probably doesn’t do much to soothe her.

Yuri rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing his glass from the coffee table. “I’m getting more wine.”

Halfway to the kitchen, he hears Viktor call out, “Wait, so then who else is worthy of you?”

Yuri turns to give him a very pointed stare. His voice is low and deliberate when he says, “No one I can have.” Then he shifts his gaze to Yuuri, just for a moment — long enough that Viktor notices — before turning away.

Viktor gasps, “Not my Yuuri!”

“Vitya, he’s joking,” Yuuri says.

“No, I’m not!” Yuri shouts from the kitchen.

He is, but Viktor doesn’t need to know that.

* * *

[A picture of Melody sitting in JJ’s lap. She’s wearing a glittery gold top-hat to match her black and gold dress. She’s crushing a gold party horn in one of her hands. She and JJ sport matching grins.]

**91,498 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Happy New Year! Papa’s princess is ready to party! #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl #family #party #newyears2023 #cute #love #jjstyle

 **yuri_plisetsky** !!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Uh oh  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva SHUT UP HAG  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva Let him gush. It’s cute  
**katsuki-y** She’s beautiful!  
**Jjleroy!15** @katsuki-y Thank you! I certainly like to think so!  
**phichit+chu** I haven’t seen a pic since she was born! She’s so big already!  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu It kills me. I want her to stay little forever  
**phichit+chu** @Jjleroy!15 The world is too cruel a place for one so small  
**+guanghongji+** Playtime with Luna this summer?  
**Jjleroy!15** @+guanghongji+ You know it

DECEMBER 31

* * *

Telling Deda about JJ is easier.

Telling Deda about _anything_ is easier. Deda doesn’t try to speak over him or interject. He lets Yuri talk until Yuri runs out of words. Or air. Whichever happens first. Yuri can call him at any time of the day, and Deda will answer, and listen, and speak to Yuri in the calm, deep, gravelly voice that always sets him at ease. He can tell Deda whatever’s on his mind without feeling stifled or judged, because Deda loves and accepts him unconditionally. Through his fits of rage or excited ramblings, or the rare bouts of frustrated tears, Deda coaxes him through it all with frank comments and quiet comfort.

Yuri calls him during the first week of January. They talked on New Year’s, but Yuri couldn’t bring himself to say what he needed to. Now, staring at three more negative pregnancy tests, he knows it’s time to come clean.

Deda answers after the second ring. “Yurochka.”

“Hi, Deda,” Yuri says.

“Is everything alright?”

He sounds concerned. They talk once a week — every Sunday, like clockwork — unless a special occasion or an emergency necessitates another call. It’s Thursday now, a day that holds no special significance to either one of them. Of course Deda would assume that something’s wrong.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Yuri says. “I just… wanted to talk to you. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“I’m listening.”

He’s so composed. Deda’s clipped comments might sound brusque to anyone who doesn’t know him well, but Yuri can hear the warmth beneath it.

Even so, Yuri’s nerves start to fray. Between the pregnancy tests and talking to his friends — and the trash can, which Yuri still glances toward multiple times a day, even though he’s already disposed of the bag that contained his birth control — his nerves are worn down enough as it is. He isn’t worried about Deda’s reaction so much as he’s conflicted about his own intentions. He has no idea what he’s doing. He has no idea what he wants, except that he wants JJ, and he wants a baby, but the practical voice in the back of his head won’t let him put those two things together.

A hand reaches out and plucks one of the negative tests from the coffee table. Yuri stares at it for a moment, then taps it along his lower thigh. When he speaks again, everything he meant to say to start the conversation slips away from him. Instead, he asks, “Hypothetically, if I said I wanted to have a baby… what would you say?”

There’s a beat of silence. Yuri can hear a quiet creak on the other end of the line, like Deda’s shifting in his chair.

“Are you pregnant?” he finally responds, his voice level — controlled.

“No,” Yuri says. The rate of his restless tapping increases. “No, I don’t think so. Every test I’ve taken says I’m not.”

“But you’re trying?”

Yuri sighs. At the same time, the back of his throat vibrates with a soft noise, so it sounds more like a helpless groan. “I don’t know. Maybe. I was so fucking stupid and I stopped taking my birth control, and now I’m losing my shit because I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Is this something you’ve considered before?” Deda asks.

“I… yeah. For a while now.”

“You never told me.”

“I know,” Yuri says. His expression falls into a guilty grimace. “I wasn’t sure how to talk about it. I haven’t really told _anyone_. Some of my friends have guessed, but… I don’t know, Deda. What the fuck was I supposed to say?”

Deda’s answer is simple and steady. “All you have to do is tell me. It doesn’t have to be a grand announcement. There’s no shame in wanting to have a baby.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Why would I be disappointed about something like this?”

Yuri shrugs even though Deda can’t see it. He heaves another sigh, leaning back into the couch cushions and tilting his head until he can stare up at the ceiling. He draws his knees up to his chest. His fingers squeeze around the negative test. Potya slinks over to sniff and lick at his toes. Yuri nudges her with the biggest one until she meows discontentedly and jumps up onto the couch with him, nuzzling against his hip instead.

“Do you think I’m too young?” he asks.

Twenty-two is far too young. That’s what he imagines most people would say. _Especially_ since he’s unmarried, and he’s only just entered into something that resembles a real relationship — one he can’t even bring himself to fully acknowledge beyond “I’m seeing someone.” He’s doing more than “seeing,” isn’t he? Someone doesn’t purposefully risk a pregnancy with someone they’re just “seeing.” Then again, most of that behavior has been subconscious. He’s aware of it, but he doesn’t put much thought into it when he acts.

“Yurochka,” Deda says. His voice dips lower, at once serious and reassuring. “Your mama had a normal enough life and he had you when he was seventeen. You were out of the house by the time you were ten and famous when you were fifteen. You’ll be twenty-three soon. That’s a fine age for you to have a baby. I’m not worried about you being young. I’m worried about you being on your own.”

“What if I _don’t_ do it on my own?”

Yuri drags his teeth over his bottom lip and chews some of the chapped skin off while he waits for Deda to respond. There’s an expectant silence over the line, like Deda’s waiting for him to continue. Yuri stays quiet, focusing on a small, unidentifiable stain on the ceiling.

“Is this something you’ve talked about with Otabek?” Deda finally asks.

“No,” Yuri says. “I mean, yes. Sort of. But no, he doesn’t want kids. We’re not…” He struggles to come up with some way to explain the situation without horrifying Deda with any details. “We’ve sort of cooled off.”

“You’ve been seeing someone else then.”

“I guess, yeah. It’s recent, but… yeah, we’ve seen each other off and on since the Olympics.”

A note of disbelief lurks beneath Deda’s otherwise calm tone. “And you’re considering them as a father?”

Yuri squirms in place, digging his toes into the couch cushion. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shifts again, disturbing Potya, who’s since curled up beside him. “He knows I want a baby. He offered a few weeks ago. I told him he was fucking insane, but… I haven’t completely scrapped the idea.”

Admitting that outloud is as unintentional as the rest of Yuri’s actions have been since leaving Colorado Springs. His fingers tighten around the negative test, then drop it, rising to push a few stubborn locks of his loose hair out of his face.

“Is he good to you?” Deda asks.

Memories surface, completely against Yuri’s will — JJ’s hand along his back; JJ’s foot against his; JJ’s fingers stroking his wrist; the light in JJ’s eyes; the look on his face when they talk about Melody; the soft smile JJ wears when they’re alone; the tender kisses Yuri wants to hate but can’t, because they make his stupid heart do weird fluttery things in his chest.

Yuri’s hand lowers to fiddle with the wedding ring he still wears around his neck like a trophy. He bought a different chain for it, one without a charm already attached — silver, because it was cheap and it looks okay with the platinum. The cost was probably only a fraction of what JJ’s ring is worth, but he enjoys the way wearing it makes him feel. Sometimes smug. Sometimes soft and thoughtful. Maybe it’s wrong of him to wear it; Isabella will be furious if she ever notices. For now, Yuri doesn’t care. He wears it regularly, along with JJ’s hoodie.

“Yeah,” Yuri says. “I guess so.”

Deda hums lowly, but it’s difficult to say if he’s being contemplative or if he’s pleased by the answer. Most likely, he’s more pleased than anything else. “Do I know him?”

“I think so. He’s another skater.”

“From Russia?”

Yuri laughs lightly. Of course that would be Deda’s preference. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. He’s from Canada.”

Deda’s quiet again as he muddles over the answer. “Who then? Not the one you’ve always complained about.”

“Uhh… actually, yeah.”

“Isn’t he married?” There’s a growing hint of disapproval in Deda’s voice now.

“Not anymore,” Yuri says, sliding JJ’s ring back and forth along the chain.

Sternly, Deda says, “ _Yurochka_.”

“It wasn’t me, Deda. They were done when we…” If it were anyone else, Yuri would have been glad to shock them with a blunt “when we fucked.” But Deda certainly wouldn’t want to hear that, though he has to be aware of the things Yuri’s gotten up to with Otabek. Yuri respects him enough that he lets the sentence hang there, choosing to continue with, “They’ve been done since last year. They’re getting a divorce. He’s already made a public statement.”

Deda hums again. There’s another creak as he shifts positions. Yuri expects that he might pose some other objection, either to lament JJ’s nationality, or to caution Yuri against any hasty decisions.

He doesn’t. All Deda says is, “I’ll want to meet him.”

It’s that simple. It always is with Deda. He might be a stubborn old man, but he’s gentle and loving when it counts.

Yuri’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Okay.”

And that’s that.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri lying on the couch in Viktor and Yuuri’s apartment. He has Karina against his chest. They both appear to be napping.]

**58,213 likes**

**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky keeps stealing my baby #babyviktuuri #babythief #icekitten #teamrussia

 **christophe-gc** You’ll have to lock him out to keep him away  
**v-nikiforov** @christophe-gc We made the mistake of giving him a key  
**christophe-gc** @v-nikiforov Guess you’ll have to change the locks  
**mila-babicheva** At least you know how to get him to retract his claws  
**v-nikiforov** @mila-babicheva True  
**phichit+chu** I’m constantly amazed that Yuri can be so soft  
**v-nikiforov** @phichit+chu The sweet kitten comes out more and more these days  
**phichit+chu** @v-nikiforov He’s had everyone fooled all this time  
**yuri_plisetsky** Stop posting pictures of me when I’m sleeping  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky Stop falling asleep at my apartment  
**Jjleroy!15** This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Except Melody?  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky That goes without saying

JANUARY 5

* * *

Yuri starts bleeding again on the 6th of January.

He knows it’s a normal period this time, because the cramps keep him in bed for the first two days, curled up with Potya and a hot water bottle, downing pain reliever every six hours. He stuffs chocolate into his face on the second day and craves salty potato chips on the fourth one. He's bloated, so his jeans are uncomfortable, and he snaps at everyone because he’s tired and in pain and he feels even less inclined to deal with their stupidity than he usually does. Yakov grows testy with him, incensed by Yuri’s wavering mood, but Lilia takes pity on him in that grim way of hers, ushering Yuri over to her lavish apartment so she can fill him up with a healthy dinner and ginger tea sweetened with honey.

Yuri sends irritable texts to Mila and Guang Hong, who console him even if neither of them have had to deal with a normal period in months (“It’ll end soon, boo. Plus, I think I win on both pain and blood loss,” Guang Hong says, then sends Yuri a new picture of Luna). Yuri responds to Viktor’s sympathetic messages with a continuous stream of “leave me alone dumbass i’m busy dying.” He grumbles to Otabek over Skype, who offers advice he probably reads online, because Otabek doesn’t know jack shit about periods even though he has three omega sisters.

And, after some hesitation, Yuri complains to JJ, who comforts him with videos of Melody and a few pictures of his newborn niece, without making any of the teasing comments Yuri expected.

There’s no doubt now. He isn’t pregnant. The nine tests he took should have been enough to convince him, but it’s the heavy period that proves it. Out of some bleak sense of regret, Yuri keeps the negative tests in a plastic bag instead of throwing them away. They’re shoved into the back of his nightstand drawer. They taunt him, feeding into his disappointment every time his hand brushes against the bag.

It’s irrational. He should be relieved, and a part of him is — that logical voice in his head screaming at him to be reasonable. But that voice loses strength every day, dimming the more time passes, until he’s grasping for the last echoes of it, fighting with himself to _listen_ , because he shouldn’t — he _can’t_ — let himself give in.

If he wants a baby sooner rather than later, wouldn’t a sperm donor be the better choice? He’s considered, when he wakes in the early morning hours and can’t get back to sleep. A sperm donor seems like the most advantageous manner to go about things. He wouldn’t have to worry about dating. He wouldn’t have to put any effort into a relationship. He could have a baby whenever he wanted, and no one else would have any say over it.

But now, the more he thinks of some faceless beta man or alpha with a number attached to their profile instead of a name, the more he doesn’t like the option. Maybe that works for other people. Maybe it would work for him if he gave it a chance. His mother made do without his father around. Yuri wouldn’t ever claim to have led a privileged life until he was successful enough for sponsorships and lucrative endorsements, but Mama and Deda did the best they could. He was happy with them, until Mama was gone. After, when the grief passed, Deda more than made up for it.

Yuri could have a baby by himself, and that baby would have a comfortable life full of love and adventure. He has so many people who care for him now, who he could turn to for support if and when he needed it. Deda is aging and not always in the best health, but he would help Yuri without question, and treat a great grandchild with the love and care with which he’s always treated Yuri. And the rest…

Yakov has been like a father to him, even when their tempers clash. Lilia hasn’t abandoned Yuri even though he no longer lives with her; she’s the closest thing to a mother he’s had since Mama died. Viktor and Yuuri, while annoyingly affectionate with one another, have both given Yuri support in their own ways, once all that awkward tension leading up to the Barcelona Grand Prix Final passed. Georgi and Nadya have done their fair share, too. Even Mila, despite all of her teasing and meddling, has earned a place in Yuri’s heart.

Yet all of those thoughts fall by the wayside every time Yuri remembers JJ’s unbridled joy and love for Melody.

Yuri wants that for a baby. He wants whoever comes into his life, now or in the future, to feel that way about his child. He didn’t have that from his father, and though a hurt, mistrustful place in Yuri’s heart remains cautious because of it, he has no doubt that, no matter what happens with their relationship, JJ would always look at their baby like that.

 _This is stupid,_ Yuri reminds himself. _This is crazy._

It loses its effect after a while, when he’s lying in bed at night, staring at the pictures on his phone.

On the 14th, once the bleeding has stopped and he’s feeling a little more like himself, Pavel and Lidiya come to stay with him for the night.

They watch movies and eat junk food. They play with Potya. They roll around on the floor — all three of them at once — and wage a lengthy tickle fight. Yuri’s apartment is full of noise that isn’t music or the sound of his own voice. He laughs and jumps around the way he did when he was young, pulling Pavel and Lidiya into silly dances that leave them both shrieking with glee.

JJ texts him, after they’ve tired themselves out and settled down for another movie. The messages come through on Yuri’s phone, which he putters around on by the coffee table while Lidiya and Potya curl up in his lap.

Yuri will insist that his quick reaction is due to his excitement over the prospect of seeing Melody, _not_ because he has any great desire to see JJ face to face.

They’ve texted since parting, far more frequently than they used to, during the hours between JJ waking and Yuri going to sleep. JJ sends him pictures on a regular basis, without Yuri having to make further demands. Yuri has, on occasion, responded with photos of Potya or the day-to-day happenings in his life — the children, mostly, and training at the rink, along with sappy pictures of Viktor and Yuuri, which Yuri gags over and complains about for JJ’s amusement. They talk of normal things like practice, or Russian Nationals, or JJ’s family, the sort of routine conversations Yuri might have with Otabek or Mila.

But they’ve not talked by phone or by video call yet. Yuri would not typically care, except that he often finds himself wishing he could hear JJ’s voice for once.

He will _never_ admit that. He’s barely acknowledged it when the thought crosses his mind, banishing it back into the dark recesses before he can even consider making a call.

“Pashenka,” Yuri says, turning to Pavel, who’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a cup of juice. “Do you want to talk to JJ?”

Pavel’s eyes light up, though Yuri expects it’s less because he gets to see Yuri’s boyfriend (“Is that what JJ is now?” Yuri wonders) and more because he gets to talk to another successful figure skater — one he knows more from the television and online videos than he does from the one public encounter they had at Mila and Sara’s wedding.

“Yeah!” Pavel says.

Yuri gently dislodges Potya from his lap and rises with Lidiya perched on his hip. He retrieves his laptop from his room, carrying it to the coffee table, where he pulls up FaceTime and establishes contact with JJ.

“That was fast,” JJ says after answering on the third ring.

He’s barely visible on the screen, and the video is unsteady with movement. It stabilizes once JJ’s set down whatever device he’s using to talk. He lowers himself in front of a dark leather couch. Yuri suspects JJ’s taken a similar position to himself, on the floor behind a coffee table.

Yuri’s eyes zero in on the baby. JJ holds her in a standing position on his lap. Melody laughs happily and reaches toward the screen. JJ pulls her back from it, at which point she begins to bounce up and down like she’s trying to jump.

She’s wearing an ivory dress speckled with tiny black stars. It sports a ruffled collar, and a dark pink cardigan over top, fastened with a bow. Her sparkling headband matches the cardigan, and her legs are covered by a pair of warm black tights.

“Baby!” Lidiya shouts in Russian, pointing at the screen from Yuri’s lap.

JJ laughs. He likely has no idea what she said, but her excitement easily translates over the language barrier.

“She’s even smaller than you,” Yuri says, tickling Lidiya’s side until she laughs. “Her name is Melody. Can you say hello?” He says “hello” in English instead of Russian.

“Hello!” Lidiya cheers.

Pavel slides off of the couch to sit on his knees next to Yuri. He waves at the screen and exclaims, “Hello!”

“Zdravstvuyte,” JJ greets them in return, earning a grin from Pavel and clapping and giggling from Lidiya. His pronunciation is passable — one of the few phrases he must have picked up from his competitive travels to Russia.

Yuri’s eyes drift from the children to gaze at him fully. JJ looks as upbeat as always, dressed in a grey henley and dark blue jeans, grinning widely as Melody continues her jumping. His beard has grown in more. Yuri assumed the results would be hit or miss; the stubble was attractive, but not every face looks as appealing with a beard, in Yuri’s opinion. It’s a surprisingly good look for JJ. The fact that Isabella wouldn’t like it only adds to Yuri’s satisfaction.

Melody squeals, reaching toward the camera again. JJ gently takes her arm and encourages a wave. “Say hi to Yuri and Pavel and Lidiya.”

She gurgles. A bit of drool wets her chin.

“Yura,” Yuri corrects him.

“What?”

Yuri adjusts Lidiya on his lap so she’s no longer cutting off the circulation in one of his thighs. “You should call me Yura.”

JJ’s grin widens. “Nine years and a few earth-shattering orgasms later, I finally get to call you that?”

“I might have let you do it sooner if you weren’t such an obnoxious dick,” Yuri says.

“I’m not convinced you don’t like,” JJ teases.

Yuri rolls his eyes. He shouldn’t like it at all, especially when it used to infuriate him like nothing else, but he does occasionally find himself amused by it these days, so long as the brunt of it isn’t directed at him.

“You’re delusional,” he says anyway.

JJ laughs lightly. “You’re looking beautiful as always.”

Yuri snorts. He’s wearing flannel pajama pants — purple leopard print over white — and a red Team Russia hoodie that doesn’t even come close to matching. His messy hair is wound into a loose braid over one shoulder, and the pimples that sprouted up on his chin and near his nose during his recent period haven’t completely gone away. “Beautiful” is not a word he would use to describe his appearance right now, but JJ says it with sincerity all the same.

“Delusional,” Yuri repeats.

Pavel crowds into the screen before JJ can respond, shouting in Russian, “Teach me the quad lutz!”

Yuri translates. JJ laughs again and says, “You’re a little young for it now. How about when you’re older? I’ll coach you.”

Pavel beams when Yuri recites the answer in Russian.

He and JJ chatter on through Yuri for a good twenty minutes — about skating and the Olympics and random other things like movies and superheroes. Lidiya adds her voice to the commentary every so often, though she’s more interested in Melody than JJ. Melody gurgles or babbles nonsense from JJ’s lap, then grabs for one of JJ’s hands to gnaw on the side of his thumb, which JJ allows until her two bottom teeth sink in too hard.

Yuri consents to his role as translator without complaint, amused first by Pavel’s excitement, then by the ease with which JJ communicates with Pavel and Lidiya even through the language barrier. JJ gives them his full attention when they talk, and he responds as readily as he would if someone was speaking to him in English or Québécois. He’s kind and patient with them. He never seems disinterested. He asks Pavel what he’s learned on the ice and is suitably impressed when Yuri relays the response to him, which makes Pavel smile proudly. JJ asks Lidiya to show him some of her toys; she picks one of her baby dolls and asks in her imperfect toddler words if she can hold Melody. JJ says, “Of course! Next time I see you, we can hold her together.”

It’s Yuri who brings an interlude to their conversation, complaining to Pavel good-naturedly, “Pashenka, I want to talk to JJ, too. Why don’t you watch your movie for a while? You can talk to him again later.”

Pavel pouts and whines but does as Yuri says, climbing back onto the couch to return his attention to the television. Beside Yuri, Lidiya has distracted herself by pretending to put her baby doll to sleep, pulling a blanket off of the couch to tuck the doll in on the floor.

“You’re good with them,” JJ says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed before. You’re usually so tense.”

Yuri shrugs. “Kids are easier to deal with than adults. Most of them haven’t learned to be douchebags yet, and if you raise them right, they usually never will.”

JJ chuckles, readjusting Melody into a more comfortable position on his lap. She’s sitting now, chewing on a teething ring JJ reached for off screen.

“She’s getting chubby,” Yuri observes.

“We Leroys are notoriously robust,” JJ replies with another wide grin.

“So you were a chubby baby?”

“From the day I was born. I think I was a little over 4.3 kilos? Somewhere around there.”

“How big was Melody?”

“An even 4 kilos,” JJ says. “How big were you?”

“Deda says 2.3.”

“ _Tiny_. Were you a premie?”

Yuri shakes his head. “Only three days early.”

“And thin to this day,” JJ says, which has Yuri rolling his eyes again. He would respond if he cared to discuss his weight; there’s been enough press talk and unwelcome comments over the years that it’s become another touchy subject he’d rather avoid. Fortunately, JJ continues without addressing it further. “You sprouted up, though. You were always a shorty before so I never thought you’d get tall.”

“I’m average.”

“Tall for an omega,” JJ counters.

“Whatever. _You’re_ tall.”

“You can thank the Leroy genes for that.”

He can probably thank those same fucking genes for the fact that JJ’s so handsome, too. Every Leroy Yuri’s ever seen has been unfathomably good looking. JJ’s father is handsome, JJ being a near spitting image of Alain in his prime. Nathalie might not be as in shape as she used to be, but beneath age and a fuller face one can still see the spirited beauty she was in her youth. Charlie’s handsome, a bit leaner than JJ but otherwise the resemblance is comparable enough that most people can identify them as siblings. Sophie is gorgeously modelesque and irritatingly aware of it. Yuri has seen many of their younger siblings in pictures, too. They’re always comely and stylishly dressed, cute as children and just as pleasing to the eye later in life. No doubt Melody will grow up to be just as beautiful.

Often, they make Yuri feel somehow less attractive. There’s no denying his own good looks, but he lacks the healthy glow that seems inherent in the Leroys. He’s too pale and too thin. His smiles are rare. His face has been prone to blemishes since he was seventeen. His hair is in good condition, and his eyes are striking enough to earn frequent compliments, but it isn’t much of a consolation. He’s still a skinny kid from a poor background, usually hiding beneath layers of loose, inexpensive clothing when he’s off the ice.

Yuri stares at JJ through the screen, making a survey of his face the way he did in Colorado Springs. He could get lost in JJ’s eyes if he isn’t careful.

JJ breaks the short silence. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Yuri leans back against the couch and pulls his knees up to his chest. He sighs heavily but doesn’t say what he wants to say — that he’s spent the last month trying _not_ to think about it. “It’s not a good idea.”

“You’re right. It’s a _great_ idea.”

“I still don’t know what the fuck makes you think that.”

“I’m serious about you,” JJ says. “And I think you’re serious about me. We’ve technically been seeing each other since last February. We’ve been friends for at least four years now.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” Yuri counters.

“You tolerated me about as much as you tolerated everyone else. You just pretended not to because you were too proud to admit you didn’t hate me.”

Yuri sighs in disgust and curls an arm around Lidiya when she draws close enough to rest her head on his shoulder.

“You actually want a baby,” JJ continues. “You’ll be an awesome mom. I can tell just by seeing how you are with Pavel and Lidiya. I like to think I’m a good dad. I’ve always wanted at least two kids. And after Bella, I’m not really interested in doing the whole marriage thing again any time soon. Or at all, if that’s how life goes.”

“Melody’s only seven months old,” Yuri argues.

“So? I was sixteen months old when Charlie was born. Seven plus nine would be sixteen. She’ll be older than that even, since I assume we wouldn’t start trying until after Worlds at the earliest.”

Yuri shifts restlessly, setting the side of his head against Lidiya’s and frowning at a random spot on the screen near JJ’s shoulder. He’s seconds away from confessing about the birth control, but he bites his cheek to hold it back. He didn’t get pregnant; it’s probably fine if he keeps it to himself. He’s not prepared to share his reckless behavior with JJ just yet. Perhaps he never will. The outcome being what it is, there can’t be any harm in it.

Suddenly, Yuri finds himself relieved to be having this conversation over FaceTime instead of in person. If he could touch JJ and bask in the warmth that radiates from his body, or put his nose to JJ’s neck again and breathe JJ’s scent deeply into his lungs, he might not be able to pose any other objections. JJ’s hands would touch him with that mix of reverence and possessiveness; they’d kiss softly, then passionately, then softly again, and Yuri would have no sense left in his brain to argue, because everything about this relationship is so new and so different to what he’s grown accustomed to that he has no prior experience with which to construct a proper defense.

Yet there remains a part of him that longs for that hotel room in Colorado Springs, where nothing else existed and the world stopped spinning for a while, and he could let himself imagine what it might be like to give in without having to concern himself with the reality of the situation.

The reality is that Yuri lives in Russia and JJ lives in Canada. They have successful enough careers at this point that money isn’t really an issue, but those same careers require far too much traveling to make any sort of relationship easy. JJ has a daughter, and a past that could complicate things even further. Yuri has no concrete plans for the future yet, just fantasies that center around a baby more than a romantic partner. Their circumstances are far from ideal.

Yuri grasps for excuses wherever he can find them, clinging to the voice in his head that he can barely hear anymore. “You haven’t even told your wife about us.”

“I’m going to,” JJ says. His smile hasn’t faded completely — steady still, but without the teasing quirk. “Bella’s coming back on Monday. I want to tell her after Nationals, as long as you’re okay with it.”

“She’s going to kill me,” Yuri deadpans.

JJ laughs softly. “She’ll be angry, but I don’t think she’d like to spend the rest of her life in jail.”

“She would’ve killed me years ago if you weren’t around to stop her.”

“I seem to remember you charging at her like you were going to gouge her eyes out at one point. Didn’t Bek have to hold you back?”

Yuri huffs and rolls his eyes, arguing, “She called me a second-rate skater with zero talent, and a worthless piece of garbage hiding behind an elitist attitude so I could pretend I’d actually amount to something.”

“And you called her a filthy whore masquerading as the perfect housewife.”

“You mean that’s not what she was?” Yuri says in a tone of sarcastic disbelief. “You said she was hung up on making everyone think she was perfect.”

JJ winces. “Okay, that second part’s true, but you could have toned down the whore rants.”

“I could’ve said a lot worse.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

It’s hard to say for certain how this turn in the conversation has affected JJ’s mood. He sounds calm enough — uneasy at most, like he expects Yuri might shift from light-hearted comments to actual bickering, which JJ would probably want to avoid. Briefly, Yuri wishes he could smell him, mostly because he’d like to determine JJ’s current frame of mind, but also because he misses being able to do so.

The hoodie Yuri absolutely did _not_ steal doesn’t even smell like JJ anymore. He’s worn it so often over the last month that his own scent has taken over, and he’s had enough spit up on it from Karina that he had no choice but to add it to his laundry for a wash.

JJ’s expression hasn’t fallen, at least. Yuri takes that to mean he isn’t too perturbed.

Still, Yuri decides to end the battle there. “Fine. You can tell her. Maybe just hide her passport before you do, so she can’t come hunt me down.”

“No one would be stupid enough to give her your address.”

“She could always send poison through my fanmail address.”

Once again, JJ laughs. He sounds truly amused. “You’re paranoid.”

“I stole her husband,” Yuri says.

“ _Ex_ -husband,” JJ corrects him.

“You’re not her ex until the divorce is final.”

“Well, you didn’t steal anything. She was done with me. It’s not up to her who I decide to have sex with. Sleeping with you was a conscious choice I made. If she wants to blame someone for it, she can blame me.”

“She won’t.”

Beside him, Lidiya nudges at Yuri’s knees until he lowers them. She climbs into his lap to cuddle against his chest, sticking her thumb into her mouth in the absence of her pacifier, which she must have lost somewhere in the apartment.

“She looks tired,” JJ says. “Are they staying the night?”

Yuri would be relieved by the change in topic if he didn’t sense their call coming to an end already. He’s immediately disgusted by the disappointment. “Yeah. Georgi’s going to be out late and Nadya won’t be home until after they go to bed, so I offered to keep them here. They like snuggling with Potya.”

“I can let you go,” JJ offers.

If he were to be honest with himself, Yuri would admit he doesn’t really want to disconnect yet. His gaze flicks away from JJ to glance down at Melody, who babbles happily and switches her teething ring from one hand to the other, concentrating on it as if she’s fascinated by its very existence. She shakes it around for a moment, laughing as she does so.

But Lidiya rests against him heavily. Her eyelids droop with fatigue. She rubs her free hand against one eye and yawns around her thumb.

“Okay,” Yuri says.

“When are you leaving for Europeans?”

“Next Sunday.”

“I can call again during Nationals. I’ll be on the west coast, though, so the time difference will be a little longer.”

Yuri glares at him sternly. “No. Focus on Nationals. I expect you to take home another gold. You can’t let someone else beat you to it. Prove to them you’re making a real comeback. You can live with texting for a week. You have for the last month.”

“Yes, sir,” JJ says, his grin wide and teasing again. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“You’re more delusional than I thought if you think I would,” Yuri counters, forcing another eyeroll. While JJ laughs, Yuri turns his head to speak to Pavel over his shoulder. “Pashenka, come say goodbye to JJ.”

Pavel slinks off of the couch so he can kneel in front of the screen again. He looks a little disgruntled about not being able to talk longer, but Yuri can tell by his posture that he’s getting tired, too.

“You can talk again soon,” Yuri reassures him.

Pavel seems satisfied by this. He waves and says “Bye!” in English. Lidiya follows with a muffled “Bye, baby” in Russian.

JJ waves to them first, then grabs one of Melody’s arms to encourage her to wave, too. “Dasvidaniya!”

Yuri snorts at him.

He glances back at Melody while he still has the chance, not even noticing the little smile on his own face as he does so. He can see a little of Isabella in her, but it doesn’t matter to him at all. She’s adorable, and she’s JJ’s. She never asked to be in the middle of this mess, the same as Yuri never asked to be stuck in the middle of the mess his father made. It’s unfair to Melody that this should happen. She shouldn’t have to grow up under the shadow of abandonment, viewed as a mistake and ultimately left behind by her own mother. She’s younger than Yuri was when his asshole of a father left, but it could still affect her life; it could change the way she thinks of herself if she ever hears the details of what happened between her parents. She’s innocent. There’s nothing she deserves more than to be loved and cared for.

He can’t wait to see her in person. Will she let him hold her? Will she smile as much as she has over FaceTime? Will she enjoy any of the nursery rhymes he’s recited with Pavel and Lidiya? How will it feel to be around her? Will there be any bitterness, or jealousy? Will it be awkward in any way? Or will he take to her immediately, the way he has with every other child who’s entered his life since Pavel was born?

“Sweetpea,” JJ calls to him softly.

Yuri looks up at him. A soft smile graces JJ’s face. His gaze is gentle and fond.

“I want you to think about it,” he says.

Yuri doesn’t have to ask what “it” he’s talking about. The subject is obvious. He could pretend otherwise, but there’s no way JJ would believe him. Yuri frowns. He’s seconds away from rolling his eyes again when JJ cuts the action off.

“No eye rolling. No denial. No knee-jerk reactions. I want you to really think about it. Don’t be pessimistic.” JJ’s expression grows a little stern. “Think about what you _want_ , because that’s the most important thing right now, not what might happen years down the road. _No one_ knows what’s going to happen in the future. I thought Bella and I would be together for the rest of our lives, but that didn’t happen. We fell apart, and we figured out where to go from there. I meant it when I said I want you, and that I’m serious about you. I’ll do whatever it takes to convince you, but I think, if you’re honest with yourself, I don’t really have to convince you about anything. You know who I am. You know how much I value honesty. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve teased you, and I’ll probably keep teasing you, but I’m not playing any games here.”

“Will you cut this monologue short if I say, ‘okay, I’ll think about it?’” Yuri asks. There might just be a subtle teasing lilt in his voice.

JJ’s lips quirk again. He’s so fucking handsome it almost makes Yuri sick. “Promise you will.”

Yuri huffs. “Fuck, _okay_ , I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that shit.”

“You’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”

“So you’ve said.” Yuri eyes him severely.

JJ doesn’t seem put off by it at all. Of course he isn’t, the complete bastard. “I said you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“It’s all the same thing, isn’t it?” Yuri says.

“Yuraaaa,” Pavel whines. He puts his head on the shoulder not currently occupied by Lidiya.

JJ’s smile turns fond. “Get them to bed. We can talk again soon.”

“ _After_ Nationals,” Yuri reminds him.

“Wish me luck?”

Yuri does manage to roll his eyes this time. He’s proud of himself for restraining a smirk in the process. “Good luck. Win gold. Make the rest of this season a challenge for me. It’s been dull without you since Berlin.”

“I knew you missed me,” JJ teases him, grin stretching wide.

“As always, you’re delusional.”

JJ laughs in that charming way that means he’s truly amused. “Have a good night, sweetpea.”

“Yeah, okay, dickhead. Go do whatever it is you do all day when you’re not pining for my company.”

“Honestly, I’m usually thinking about you naked.”

Yuri snorts. “Don’t be indecent around the children.”

“Says the guy who swears in front of them.”

“It’s a good thing they don’t know much English, then,” Yuri says, like he doesn’t also swear in Russian when he’s around them. It’s truly fortunate that Pavel knows and Lidiya’s learning that they shouldn’t repeat any of it; he got an earful from Lilia the one time Lidiya dropped one of her toys into the dirt outside and shouted, “Oh, shit!”

“See you soon, sweetpea,” JJ says.

Yuri’s only response is to wave to both JJ and Melody, before the call disconnects and he closes FaceTime to stare at nothing but the tiger background on his laptop screen.

For just a moment, a sense of loneliness creeps over Yuri. With Pavel and Lidiya quiet with fatigue, he’s reminded again of his small, silent apartment — the cold bed; the bare furnishings; the solitary meals. Sometimes he regrets moving out of Lilia’s place, though Yuri suspects this particular type of loneliness wouldn’t have been relieved there either. He misses one person most of all. Even though that truth sickens him, Yuri can’t escape it.

Damn it all. What has JJ done to him?

When Lidiya shifts and releases another yawn around her thumb, Yuri shuts his computer to help them both get ready for bed — pulling out pajamas; changing Lidiya’s diaper; making sure Pavel uses the toilet and brushes his teeth; finding Lidiya’s pacifier in the kitchen under the small table Yuri never really uses.

They crowd into Yuri’s bed together, with Yuri on one side and Pavel and Potya snuggling on the other. Lidiya rests between them, closing her heavy eyes as she curls against Yuri’s chest, gripping onto his hoodie with one of her small hands.

Yuri presses his nose to her hair and breathes in the scent of her baby shampoo.

He falls asleep just like that, then wakes before them in the morning, gazing at their sleeping forms and listening to their slow breathing. For once, he doesn’t fight, but lets the longing in his heart consume him.

* * *

* * *

Finally, Yuri thinks about it.

He thinks about it every time he and JJ text. He thinks about it during the entire week of the Canadian National Championships, when he pulls up the scores and videos on his phone to see JJ make a shaky start but ultimately take home the gold by a narrow margin. He thinks about it when Karina falls asleep on his chest. He thinks about it as he packs his bags for the European Championships. He thinks about it when he washes JJ’s hoodie, and when he slides JJ’s wedding ring along his necklace. He thinks about it every time he sits down for a meal alone, on his couch with the television on for background noise, while Potya sniffs around and meows at him to share his food with her. He thinks about it when he Skypes with Otabek, when he can’t conjure up that image of a surly little boy anymore, because all he can think about is JJ’s eyes and Melody’s round cheeks.

He thinks about it every time he passes the trash can, even though his birth control is long gone now. He thinks about it when Yakov grumbles during practice, either about being too old or too tired, or both, and Yuri knows without asking that Yakov will retire once Yuri’s competitive career comes to an end. He thinks about it when he talks to Deda, who always has questions and comments about JJ every time Yuri calls. (“How old is he? He has a daughter? Have you met her? He’s the tall one with the tattoos, isn’t he? Don’t you go covering yourself with tattoos now, Yurochka. One is enough. What’s his name again? _JJ_? What does that mean? He’s very wealthy, Yurochka. Good. He’ll take care of you.’) He thinks about it when Mila and Viktor try to meddle. He thinks about it when he’s at the barre with Lilia in the afternoons, with nothing but quiet music and oft repeated praises, and the pride that shines in Lilia’s eyes more and more each year.

Yuri thinks about what a baby might look like. Dark haired, most likely, unless there’s some blonde hidden in the Leroy genes. Would the baby be a girl or a boy, an alpha or an omega? Hopefully they’d take after JJ in the personality department; Yuri can admit that inheriting his own personality would make growing up more stressful than JJ’s fearless optimism would. Would Melody and a baby resemble one another at all? How would Melody, young as she is, respond to having a younger sibling?

Then there are the other concerns — the more important ones, like living arrangements, or the change it would mean for Yuri’s career. Would it be better for them to live together? Where? How would they divvy up the responsibilities if they didn’t? What about medical costs? Emergency funds? Schooling?

How would they handle the fallout with Isabella?

There’s no way it could work. Even if it did for a while, there’s no telling how compatible he and JJ actually _are_ — not as romantic partners, and certainly not as parents.

They’re complete opposites. JJ, privileged since birth; Yuri, raised poor, before becoming the main provider for his family at a very young age. JJ, part of a large family; Yuri, an only child with a troubled past, and few blood relatives left alive. JJ the extrovert; Yuri the introvert. JJ the idealist, versus Yuri the cynic. A successful musician, fashion designer, _and_ figure skater, versus a figure skater who consents to promotional work not for any affinity he has for the product he’s selling, but for the much needed money it brings in. JJ, a known philanthropist and humanitarian, versus Yuri, an indifferent skeptic with few charitable donations to his name. A thriving single father versus the hot mess that Yuri Plisetsky has become.

This thing with JJ could continue or end in any number of ways. The two of them might be relatively predictable under normal circumstances, but that was always _before_. Their relationship is no longer the same as it once was. There’s more depth to it, more emotion. Now that different feelings are coming into play, Yuri has no idea what to expect anymore.

He carries these thoughts with him during his travels to Vienna. Unfortunately, the European Championships are even less of a distraction than everything else has been. Practice is dull. The press coverage is annoying. His fans are as cloying as always. Yuri avoids as many people as he can, except his coaches and Emil — and Mickey, who came along to support his partner; and Yuuri, the only coach to accompany Vasiliy while Viktor stays home with Karina. Nothing is the same without Viktor to defeat, without Chris being lewd out on the ice, without Georgi being dramatic, or Mila dragging Yuri out for dancing and drinking and sightseeing.

And Yuri thinks more and more about how tired he is — how uninspired he’s become.

He’s had a career to be proud of, but the longer this season stretches on, the more he thinks that he’s done. He needs a year off, at least. Maybe more. If he changes his mind later and the time away is good to him, he could be ready for the 2026 Olympics, so long as he plays his cards right and keeps himself in shape. And he will, because he can’t imagine a life without the ice or ballet, whether he has a baby or not. His body will change if he does, but that’s not a hurdle he can’t overcome. He’s confident in that; he’s been through changes before, during the two years he had to relearn his body as he grew taller.

Ironically, it’s Isabella’s DM that ends up setting everything into motion.

   

The FaceTime call comes through before Yuri can throw his phone onto the bed in aggravation. He accepts the call on his laptop, already open in front of him. Yuri glares when JJ’s face appears on the screen.

JJ immediately asks, “What’s wrong?”

He’s sitting somewhere. Yuri has no idea where he’s currently living in Montreal, so it’s hard to determine an exact location. There are green cabinets in the background that suggest he’s in or around someone’s kitchen. In his hands, he holds a tiny spoon and a jar of green baby food. Melody babbles somewhere nearby but doesn’t appear on the screen.

JJ looks and sounds tired. His posture is somehow less precise than usual. His shoulders seem to be slumping, and his back isn’t as straight as it normally is. JJ’s hair is ruffled, like he hasn’t bothered to style it yet, and there’s just enough tension around his eyes that Yuri can tell JJ was in a low mood even before the concern kicked in.

“I’m guessing the conversation with your wife didn’t go well,” Yuri says.

“What makes you say that?”

“You look like shit.” He doesn’t, just drained, which Yuri might otherwise assume was the result of JJ pushing himself so hard during Nationals, if he wasn’t already aware that Isabella knows. “And your wife sent me a rude DM.”

“She did _what_?” JJ grounds out, the tension around his eyes increasing. “What did she say?”

Yuri shrugs. “Apparently she felt the need to remind me that she hates me. As if I don’t already know that.”

“Did you message her back?”

“Yeah. I told her I don’t give a fuck what she thinks and we’re going to keep fucking whether she likes it or not. Just not in those exact words.”

JJ’s eyes narrow and he releases an irritated sound. Yuri almost thinks JJ’s displeased with him, until JJ says, “I told her to leave you alone.”

Yuri snorts. “You expected her to listen?”

“Yeah, I was hoping she had more class than that.”

“I don’t give a shit if she has class or not. _I_ don’t have class.”

JJ sighs and drops the spoon into the jar of baby food to free up one of his hands, which he uses to rub at his jaw. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her again.”

“Don’t bother,” Yuri scoffs. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t expect you to apologize for her bullshit.”

“I don’t want her harassing you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been dealing with this shit from her since Barcelona.”

JJ’s expression falls for just a moment. He almost looks crushed. “I should’ve put a stop to this years ago. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking. You were young and dumb as fuck.”

“Okay, well, she’s already yelled at me, so I’d rather she keep doing that instead of going after you. All of this crap between me and her isn’t your problem.”

“It became my problem as soon as I fucked you.”

It’s touching, in a way, that JJ feels guilty about their past. Some of it was JJ’s fault to begin with, considering he was the one to tease first, and he either laughed at his wife’s antics or egged her on when the conflict first began. That he regrets it now just goes to show how much JJ has changed — that he’s matured, and that he puts far more thought into his actions than he used to.

When JJ doesn’t respond except to roughly shove his hand through his hair, Yuri says, “So the two of you had a fight over it.”

JJ drops his hand and lets out a quiet, bitter little laugh. “Yeah. It figures we’d have our first real fight in the middle of a divorce.”

Melody shouts off screen — a loud, long whine that sounds a lot like impatience. JJ picks up the spoon again and scoops out more baby food to continue feeding her.

“And you fought back?” Yuri asks. “Or was it just her bitching at you the entire time?”

“I was calm for most of it, but I lost it as soon as Bella brought Melody into it.”

“What the fuck. What did she do?”

Hesitantly, JJ says, “She told me she doesn’t want you around Mel.”

Yuri’s chest tightens. His heart drops. His stomach twists into a knot. His lips part, then close as he tries to think of something to say that isn’t an immediate cry of outrage. He shouldn’t give into that impulse, no matter how badly he wants to. What would JJ think about having his daughter around someone who can’t control their temper, especially after he and his wife just recently argued about it?

Eventually, Yuri manages to choke out half of a question. “And what did you…”

“I told her she doesn’t have any business making demands like that when she’s barely been around these last seven months,” JJ says. His tired eyes narrow further, mouth pressing into a straight line. He’s probably trying to control his expression around Melody. The one swear that follows has to be unintentional. “Then she asked me, ‘Is this the shit Plisetsky’s been feeding you?’ And I said, ‘No, this is what happens when you decide you need time and space and I’m the one who’s been responsible for Mel since the day she was born.’”

The dismay in Yuri softens with JJ’s indignation. With the way JJ spoke of Isabella in Colorado Springs, Yuri assumed he would never see anger there, only loss and a compassion Yuri still can’t make himself believe Isabella deserves. JJ loved her once. Maybe there’s a part of him that loves her still, if he can be so warm-hearted in the face of their separation. It’s both surprising and satisfying to see the frustration now.

Perhaps it was there all along, hidden beneath all that excitement and positivity JJ projects to the rest of the world.

He’s opening up to Yuri again, much more than before.

This is the _truth_. JJ’s discouraged and hurt, and he no doubt hates that he feels either of those things. He would want to be tolerant and fair to his wife, the way he is to everyone else. He would want to be considerate of her feelings. He would try, _earnestly_ , to forgive her, because that’s who JJ is. He’s caring and supportive, and empathetic in a way Yuri could never be.

 _I want to kiss him_ , Yuri thinks, as he always does when he’s treated to a previously undiscovered piece of JJ. Yuri doesn’t care to offer much comfort to many people, yet he finds himself troubled now that he can’t take JJ’s face between his hands, press his lips to JJ’s mouth, as if to silently tell him, _You don’t need her. You never needed her._

It takes Yuri completely by surprise. He squirms in place, then scratches his fingers through his hair until the feeling fades away.

“You know what hurt worse than Bella giving up on our marriage?” JJ continues, spooning more food toward Melody. He’s looking in her direction rather than meeting Yuri’s eye. “The fact that she didn’t even _try_ to bond with Mel in the hospital. She just gave birth like it hardly mattered and that was it. And I know she thought it was a mistake, and I’m fine if she wants to live for herself and leave Melody to me. I’m grateful she went through with the pregnancy at all. But she could’ve made some kind of an effort to connect with her, or acknowledge her more than, ‘Alright, well, that’s that then.’”

Yuri hums, more to console than to agree. He _can’t_ agree. If Isabella was going to keep her distance anyway, there was no point developing any sort of bond with a child she didn’t want.

“Even after, when she came around sometimes, it felt like she was only doing it because she felt obligated. She’d watch Mel, but she hardly ever held her. She never asked questions about her. Every time I tried to talk about Mel with her, it was like I was talking to an empty shell. If she did it out of obligation, I’d rather she didn’t come around at all.”

JJ’s jaw tightens. He pauses and swallows with difficulty. Only JJ’s profile is visible, but there’s a dampness to the one silver-blue eye Yuri can see.

 _I want to kiss him_.

“I picked Melody’s name. I was the first person to hold her after the nurses and Bella’s mom. I looked in her eyes before Bella did. I picked out her clothes. I saw her first smile. I watched her learn to roll over. I held her all night the first time she was sick. I’m the one who made her laugh first. I’m the one who sings to her every night before she goes to bed, even when I’m traveling. I’m the one who worries about her. I’m the one who loves her. I’m the one making sure she has a good life. And now Bella thinks she can tell me who I can and can’t have around my daughter?”

Not _our_ daughter. _My_. She’s JJ’s. She’ll always _be_ JJ’s. She was never Isabella’s, and, if Yuri ever has any say over the matter at all, she never will be. He was never his father’s son; Melody doesn’t have to be her mother’s daughter.

Yuri frowns openly. He couldn’t control his expression if he tried.

This is everything JJ’s been holding back. This is what’s been boiling under the surface of the wide smiles and the loving eyes and the endless mercy. Isabella didn’t just spring the end of their marriage on him, she completely abandoned him _and_ the baby, just as Yuri suspected. She let go of everything they’d built together, without any pity for the husband she claimed to love, or the baby she made the choice to have.

She was selfish. Irresponsible. Unfit to be a mother or a wife. Nothing more than a stupid fangirl swept away by high school puppy love — for a man she supported, then threw away as soon as she felt overwhelmed by it. She gave JJ everything, and took it back before he had the chance to try fixing any of it. She left him reeling. She left him hopeless and despondent. Then, when he finally had something to be happy about, something he must have felt was worth all the pain, Isabella brushed it off like none of it mattered. Not JJ. Not Melody. Not any of it.

“Is she going to make an issue out of it?” Yuri asks, voice low with defensiveness and barely contained fury.

JJ sniffs — half a laugh and half a snort. He drops the spoon back into the empty jar of baby food to brush at his eye with the side of his hand. “She acted like she was going to, but she was just being spiteful. She regretted getting pregnant and she hasn’t been around for Melody long term. She doesn’t _want_ to be solely responsible, and both of our families agree Mel should stay with me. Bella knows I’d win if she tried to turn this into a custody battle.”

The answer isn’t reassuring in the least, no matter how confident JJ sounds. Yuri wouldn’t trust Isabella not to try taking Melody away just to be a bitch. She’s as mean and vindictive as Yuri’s been, only now she has more fuel for the unrelenting fire that’s always raged between them.

JJ seems to recognize Yuri’s mood, because he makes an immediate attempt to regain his previously calm demeanor. He brushes at his eye again, then the other, before turning to Yuri once he has his expression under control. “Yura, you’re fine, okay? I’ll take care of it. Don’t let this bother you.”

“Shut up,” Yuri seethes. “I don’t give a shit about me right now. I’m going to call her out on her bullshit.” He should send her another DM — a long rant full of insults and every expletive he knows in every language he’s ever learned. “Fuck her, and fuck civility. If I see that bitch again, I’m going to gouge her fucking eyes out the way I wanted to years ago.”

“I’m flattered that you’re angry on my behalf, sweetpea,” JJ says, his mouth quirking into a meager smile, “but I don’t want to make this worse than it already is. Bella’s never going to like that I’m in a relationship with you, but she doesn’t have the right make any demands about it unless she wants to drop the divorce proceedings. Which she won’t. And at this point, I wouldn’t even consider trying to make a marriage work between us again.”

Yuri’s too pissed of to deny feeling _anything_ on JJ’s behalf. “ _J_ _J_ —”

“No, listen to me. You can hate her. You can say whatever you want about her to me, as long as Melody doesn’t ever have to hear it. You never have to see Bella again if you don’t want to. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to keep her away. But _please_ don’t go after her. Don’t make this worse. If not for me, then for Mel.”

It’s the exact thing he needs to say to curb the vengeful impulses. Yuri’s furious expression remains, but he crumbles inwardly. Melody laughs off screen somewhere to JJ’s right. There’s a banging sound like she’s slapping at the tray of her highchair. Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and gives in, slumping over onto the mattress to groan into the bedding.

“Okay?” JJ prompts him.

Yuri groans again, then lifts his head enough to glare. “ _Fine_.”

JJ’s smile widens a bit. His frustration melts away as his eyes turn fond. “Thank you.”

The screen changes then. JJ disappears, instantly replaced by Melody. Just as Yuri thought, she’s strapped into a highchair, smacking her hands against the surface and laughing like the racket she’s making is the funniest thing she’s heard in her life. Her mouth and cheeks are smeared with the remnants of whatever JJ was feeding her. There’s a light blue bib around her neck, with a little cat face over her chest and tiny cat ears at her shoulders.

She’s unbearably adorable, like Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina. He’d give anything to be able to reach through the screen to poke at her cheeks, or tap a finger against the tip of her nose.

There’s a scraping sound off screen; JJ must have pushed his chair back. Yuri hears his footsteps, then a bit of rummaging around, and water running. JJ returns to the screen with a washcloth and cleans up the mess on Melody’s face, hands, and chair. She giggles while he does, but goes right back to her banging once he’s done.

Yuri settles onto his stomach on the bed, moving his laptop into a better position so he can watch Melody while JJ putters around. He sets his chin on his crossed arms and lets himself brood.

Just when he was finally starting to come around to the idea of _maybe_ agreeing with JJ’s foolish plan — or at least giving it further consideration — this shit with Isabella has to happen.

How can JJ suggest such a thing knowing Isabella would be furious? What sort of reckless logic has he been tainted with, and where did he get it from? Does he have any sort of plan at all? Has _he_ thought about it, the way he’s encouraged Yuri to? Or is this an instinctive response in the wake of his broken marriage? Is it some sort of weird rebound? He wanted more kids with Isabella, but now he won’t get any, so maybe he’s jumping on the first chance he sees to satisfy whatever paternal drive compels him?

“So how would it even work?” Yuri says.

Melody glances up at the sound of his voice and shows the camera a large smile. Yuri’s heart melts before he can stop it.

JJ pops into view again with a sandwich and a red sports drink. He’s already chewing a bite when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“You and me,” Yuri explains, “and that stupid idea you told me to think about.”

“ _Have_ you been thinking about it?”

“I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t.”

JJ’s smile looks a little more genuine when he says, “And…?”

Yuri huffs. Some of his hair flutters in front of his face, so he pushes it aside and tucks it behind his ears. “I still think it’s a stupid idea.”

“But you want to talk about it?”

JJ drags a chair closer to Melody so he can sit within view of the screen. He settles in to wolf down his sandwich, which looks like peanut butter and jelly.

Yuri doesn’t want to say “yes,” but he also knows there’s no point in lying, so all he does is shrug.

“What’s on your mind, sweetpea?” JJ asks.

“How would it work, as far as the two of us living in different countries?”

That seems like one of the more pressing issues. They could live separately if they chose to, but traveling between countries seems much too impractical with a baby involved. _Someone_ would have to move, and Yuri is fairly sure that _someone_ would be him. The question remains — is he prepared for that outcome?

JJ’s slow to begin, cautious as he studies Yuri’s face. “Well… how’s your French?”

“Decent enough for France. It depends on the accent everywhere else.”

“But you can get by if you need to?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Isn’t that what ‘decent enough’ means?”

Carefully, like he isn’t sure how Yuri will react, JJ says, “I’ve been thinking about buying a house.”

Honestly, Yuri doesn’t even know how he _should_ react. Give JJ’s circumstances, purchasing a house seems like a logical decision for him to make, and not at all out of character for someone so home and family focused. Yuri can’t fault him for it, even though JJ’s commitment to the idea would leave Yuri with the difficult choice of staying where he is, or moving to be closer.

Instead of confessing his reservations, Yuri asks, “Where are you living now?”

“I took over my parents’ guest house when Bella and I separated. She’s still at the condo when she’s in town.”

Yuri almost asks “Your parents have a _guest house_ ?” but he stops himself because _of course_ they do. JJ’s family is the closest thing to figure skating royalty anyone could ever possibly _be_. Viktor was a worldwide superstar, referred to by most of the community as a living legend, but the Leroys have established a fucking _dynasty_ over the last thirty or so years. Each and every Leroy who’s committed themselves to figure skating since Alain and Nathalie dominated ice dancing back during the late 80s and early 90s has won an Olympic gold medal. _Two_ , in fact, between individual and team events. Alain and Nathalie won _three_ , long before the team event came into existence. Not to mention the number of World medals between them.

It’s those fucking _genes_ of theirs. Who or what did the Leroys sell their souls to in order to gain so much prowess and renown?

JJ takes Yuri’s silence as an indication that he should explain himself. “It’s been on my mind since Bella and I split. I just want a fresh start, you know? I love my family and staying here’s helped a lot this last year, but I like being independent. Plus, I want a place of my own where Melody can grow up.”

“Yeah,” Yuri says. That sentiment he can agree with, at least.

“I’ve seen a place I like,” JJ continues. He’s still watching carefully, like he’s trying to decode Yuri’s expression and behavior. “It’s old, so it’ll need some work. The floors need refinishing. I want the kitchen updated. Maybe enclose part of the back porch to make a sunroom. I’d take the wallpaper down. Some of the light fixtures aren’t really my style, but that’s an easy fix.”

In the absence of any other remark, Yuri nods.

“There’s plenty of space and a decent yard. Enough for Mel to run around once she’s walking.”

Yuri finds his voice enough to ask, “How big is the house?”

“Six bedrooms. Four bathrooms.”

“What the _fuck_ do you need that many bedrooms for?”

JJ chuckles quietly. “I imagine I’ll have plenty of guests at one point or another.”

Melody squawks and reaches for JJ. He shoves the last of his sandwich into his mouth and mumbles “Hold on” around it while he removes her bib and unstraps her from her highchair. Then he carries both her and his device somewhere, not far from the kitchen. Yuri assumes it’s a living area. He catches glimpses of the leather couch from their last call, a decorative rug over wood floors, and a sea of toys JJ plops down in the middle of. Melody squirms out of his lap and uses her arms to drag herself toward a few colorful plastic balls and stackable rings of various sizes, one of which she grabs to gnaw on.

Once JJ has the screen level again, Yuri presses him, “I’d have to retire. Or take a hiatus. What would I even do for a career? I’m not going to be anyone’s fucking housewife.”

“I never thought you would,” JJ says through a snicker. “What were you thinking of doing once you stop competing?”

“Choreographing. I’d be a terrible coach.”

“You’re a pretty good mix of Feltsman and Baranovskaya. I’m sure you’d be a great coach if that was something you ever wanted to do.”

Yuri hums, but it’s less an agreement than it is him acknowledging a statement he doesn’t particularly agree with.

“How would you feel about giving private ballet lessons in between working on choreography?” JJ asks.

“Who would even _want_ to take lessons with me?”

“I can think of a few people who might. Jamie idolizes you. He’s been taking inspiration from you since he was a kid.”

Yuri looks on in confusion. “Who, Jamie Landry? The Junior champion?”

“Yeah, he’ll be making his Senior debut next season.”

With a concerned frown, Yuri asks, “When’s his birthday?”

“February. Why?”

“I happen to like being the youngest man to win the Senior Grand Prix Final,” Yuri grumbles.

It’s a record he still holds to this day, one he’s as proud of as all of the other records he’s set over the years.

JJ’s head tips slightly on a laugh. There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Don’t worry. That claim to fame will still be yours for a while. I plan on taking the gold next season, so you won’t have to worry about it.”

Yuri snorts. He almost smirks, too, but he sinks his teeth into the inside of his bottom lip and holds it back. It was annoying before, but after all this time, he’s almost relieved to see JJ getting some of his old confidence back. He isn’t really JJ without that pompous swagger he used to have.

“You said ‘a few.’ Who else is there?” Yuri asks.

“My younger sister Alice might be interested. She’ll be sixteen in October, so she’ll be moving up to Seniors next season, too. And probably Andy, one of our novices. He’s eleven.”

Yuri grows quiet. He can’t bear the look of restrained enthusiasm on JJ’s face, so he glances away to watch Melody instead. She rolls over onto her back and shakes one of the stackable rings. It slips from her drooly hand, falling to smack her right in the face, but she doesn’t do anything more than shout discontentedly before grabbing it to gnaw on again.

It doesn’t seem as if JJ bothered to get her dressed today. She’s wearing footie pajamas — bright blue with white polka dots, and a yellow whale on the front. JJ isn’t wearing regular clothes either, just gray sweats and a Montreal Canadiens shirt. Yuri can’t help but think JJ’s mood might be ever lower than he realized. Has he ever seen JJ so dressed down before? If he has, Yuri can’t remember.

Not that Yuri looks very put together in his leopard print pajama pants and JJ’s hoodie, but it’s evening for him, so he has more of an excuse.

“I would have to leave Russia,” he says, unable to keep the note of sadness out of his voice.

An uneasy moment of silence settles over them. Yuri doesn’t meet JJ’s eye, choosing to stare at Melody instead, but he can sense the change in JJ’s demeanor anyway. It’s strange to be aware of these things when they’re almost on opposite sides of the world. Yuri doesn’t even have to smell JJ; he just knows, instinctively, that his statement draws out JJ’s guilty conscience.

Perhaps he knows JJ better than he thought.

“I’d never ask you to leave if you didn’t want to,” JJ says, voice soft and low with sympathy. “I haven’t made an offer on the house yet. I can look for places in Saint Petersburg instead.”

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to agree. The streak of selfishness Yuri’s fought against for most of his life actually thrills at the idea of it. He wouldn’t have to move — a decision made painful not by any particular fondness he holds for Russia, but due to the thought of all the loved ones he’d be leaving behind. JJ could move to Saint Petersburg and save Yuri the heartache. They could figure this relationship out with the benefit of proximity. They could have a baby, and all the jealousy and impatience Yuri’s been made to feel would finally ease.

But _Yuri’s_ conscience, quiet though it might often be, won’t let him do it.

JJ would be giving up too much. _Everything_ , in fact. His coaches. His family. Potentially even parts of his career. He’d be pulling Melody away from everyone who loves her, all so Yuri could have what he wants without having to sacrifice a damned thing.

“That’s stupid,” Yuri tells him. He watches Melody roll back onto her stomach. She props herself up on her forearms, staring at her toys like she’s trying to decide which one she’d rather play with. “You’d have to change coaches. You’ve been working with your parents for years. You’re comfortable with them. Changing now might do more harm than good.”

“Then we can work it out the way things are now. Traveling isn’t an issue for me.”

“You’re _insane_ , JJ. You’re fucking insane."

JJ stares at him seriously; Yuri can see the expression out of the corner of his eye. From the heavy pause, he’s able to predict what JJ’s about to say before the words even leave his mouth.

“I can retire.”

Yuri closes his eyes just as Melody reaches for a stuffed octopus. “ _Don’t_. You just got back. You can’t—”

“I’ll be twenty-seven this year,” JJ reminds him.

“ _So_?”

“So maybe this is the right time.”

“It’s not,” Yuri snaps. When his eyes pop back open, he fixes JJ with a burning glare. “Why the _fuck_ would you bother coming back at all if you’re just going to fuck off again after one season?”

“Yura…”

Still at rest on his stomach, Yuri pushes himself further up onto his elbows. “ _No_!”

JJ gives a start at Yuri’s tone and falls silent, brow furrowing with confusion.

Yuri kicks at one of the plush hotel pillows behind him. He finds it impossible to look JJ in the eye again, so he drops his head forward until he can rest his forehead on his hands, shoulders hunching as he does so.

“It was shit when you were gone, okay?” he says, voice slightly muffled from his position, but still loud enough to be heard. “You just… you were there one second, and then you were gone, and… and nothing was the same anymore!”

He can see it clearly without even focusing on the memory — Berlin, and the fall that brought an end to their rivalry.

JJ was in first after the short program, less than a point ahead of Yuri. Their long programs were almost evenly matched; JJ usually had him beat in the technical elements, but Yuri tended to receive the higher component scores. Yuri spent his Grand Prix assignments that season preparing himself for the arduous fight for the final gold. He completed the free skate with a season’s best, ignored the requests for interviews after and waited, seething with impatience, for JJ to skate last.

The first half of JJ’s long program that year is a blur in Yuri’s memory. The only part his mind can replay for him is JJ’s left leg giving out from beneath him, following a blundered landing on a quad flip.

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut, fisting the blanket, frustrated by the guilt and the dissatisfaction. “Everything went to shit, and winning didn’t even feel like an accomplishment anymore, because _you_ weren’t there being an obnoxious jackass and getting in my way and making it a challenge for me. I was undefeated all last season. I’m undefeated _this_ season. It’s _bullshit_.”

He hasn’t gone undefeated since his two years in the Junior Division. He relished it then; he got so used to standing at the top of the podium that his first silver medal after moving up to Seniors came as a shock. Back then, he wanted to _remain_ undefeated. It would have been historic, more so than simply winning the Senior Grand Prix Final at the age of fifteen.

At some point following Barcelona, around the time Yuri’s social circle began to expand beyond his grandfather, his coaches, and his rinkmates, dominance became less satisfying to him than the competitions themselves.

Competing meant sleepovers with Otabek, and slipping into clubs to watch him DJ. It meant sneaking pizza into his hotel room when Lilia wasn’t looking, and making fun of stupid movies with Guang Hong. It meant exploring different genres of music with Leo, and letting Phichit teach him how to take an impeccable selfie (a skill Yuri still hasn’t managed to perfect). It meant having Mila drag him everywhere whenever her usual crew wasn’t around to keep her company.

It meant pushing himself, pouring everything he had into his programs, so that when he won against JJ, it wasn’t the expected outcome, but one Yuri earned through hard work and ever improving skill.

“You were gone,” Yuri continues, throat growing embarrassingly tight, “and now almost everyone else is gone. There’s no motivation anymore. It’s just the same shit over and over and over again.”

JJ breathes a quiet, “Sweetpea…”

Yuri’s forehead rolls against his hands as he shakes his head. “You could have been _back_ last season. You could have been back, and I could have won the Final fair and square, instead of just getting the win because your knee was fucked up.”

Victory never tasted so bitter as it did that day. Even his imperfect win in Barcelona can’t compare.

“You could have competed at the Olympics. We could have been on that stupid fucking podium together. But your bitch wife kept you away because she was a fucking stupid idiot who didn’t have any fucking clue what she was doing in a marriage.”

“Yura, come on.”

Yuri lifts his head up. He opens his eyes and glares at JJ, not because he’s angry with him, but because there’s an acute sense of loss stuck deep in his chest, and he has no other way to express it.

“Did she guilt trip you into it?” Yuri sneers. “Was she so fucking threatened by me that seeing us anywhere _close_ to each other made her jealous?”

“What? Baby, no, that’s not—”

“Everything’s been so fucked up. It’s been _years_ , and I just… you _can’t_ retire. You have to compete. If I’m going to do this, you have to win. You have to take over for me while I’m gone so none of the rest of these fuckers can break our records.”

“Yuri, _listen to me_.”

Yuri stops and looks at JJ — _really_ looks at him. There’s pain in JJ’s expression, though Yuri can only guess at the cause. Those silver-blue eyes are shot through with sadness and regret, but behind that is the same strength and determination Yuri’s seen over the last seven years of his life.

Firmly, deliberately, JJ asks, “Do you want to have a baby?”

He has Melody in his lap now; Yuri can’t be sure when she ended up there. She’s got the octopus plushie in one hand and a purple ball in the other, holding both up to her mouth like she can’t decide which she would rather chew on. Her eyes almost cross when she tries to look at them.

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri says. He’s absolutely humiliated when his voice cracks.

“With me?”

No. _No_ , that’s _not_ what he wants. It _shouldn’t be_ what he wants. It’s a stupid, reckless idea. There are other options. _Better_ options, perhaps. Less complicated options. Options far less likely to come apart at the seams later on.

But Yuri chokes out, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to move to Saint Petersburg?”

Yuri shakes his head furiously. He swallows to salvage what remains of his voice. “ _No_. Buy your house. Your family’s there. Don’t take Melody away from them.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t _know_.”

Still propped up on his elbows, Yuri lowers his head enough to scratch his nails against his scalp. Once. Twice. Three times. He rubs the heel of one palm against the center of his forehead, fists at his hair but doesn’t tug on it, closes his eyes and clenches his teeth against the frustration and the indecision.

“Yura…” JJ sighs, sad and unsure. There’s another short pause, then he asks, “If I buy the house… would you like to come see it? You can come back to Montreal with me after Worlds. You can meet Melody in person. We can figure this out together.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”

Yuri glances up — at Melody, who sits there innocently examining her toys, then at JJ, who stares back at Yuri with concern and fondness mixed with something unfamiliar. Something soft and warm, but guarded, too — not like that open vulnerability Yuri noticed in Colorado Springs.

“You _have_ to make the podium at Worlds,” Yuri tells him. “Do you hear me? You _have to_. Don’t leave me up there on my own with a couple of shit teenagers. You said… years ago, you said we’d do it together.”

“I said _let’s_ do it together.”

“But that’s the same thing! You were supposed to be there! You were always supposed to be there!”

“Yura…” JJ’s throat bobs as he swallows. For a moment, he looks unsure. Then his eyes tense somewhat and he persists, “When did that start to matter to you?”

Yuri glares. Isn’t it obvious by now? “In Berlin.”

“Why?”

“Because it was my fault, wasn’t it? You fucked up your knee because I was a bitch and you had to deal with all the shit going on with me and your bitch wife.”

“Yura, _no_. What happened to my knee was an accident.”

“We stressed you the fuck out,” Yuri argues. “I _know_ we did.”

“ _Yes,_ okay, but… Baby, it was a bad jump. It was a bad jump and I messed up the landing. That’s all. It wasn't because of you, and it wasn’t because of Bella.”

“It _was_.”

“Are you really upset about that?”

Yuri wants to deny it. It’s been a long time since he’s felt this humiliated by the shit spilling out of his mouth. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Were you…” JJ stops. The uncertainty in his eyes intensifies.

“Was I _what_?”

Hesitantly, JJ continues, “Last year… at the Olympics… Was that the first time you thought about me as an option?”

Yuri knows he should say something snarky like, “Who says I thought of you as an option at the Olympics?” Because it’s presumptuous of JJ to even _assume_ it might have been about anything more than sex at that point. That’s all it _should_ have been. That’s all Yuri thought it was at the time, when he was still bitter about Otabek and the changing landscape of Men’s Singles, and JJ was _there_ for the first time in over a year. He was _there_ — and he looked healthy, and handsome, and his bitch wife wasn’t around to piss Yuri off, and everything that felt wrong before that suddenly slotted back into place for the span of a single night.

“What does it matter?” Yuri says instead. To save his pride, he adds, “If you think I was pining for you in secret, you’re dead wrong.”

“So you were never attracted to me before that,” JJ says. Whether or not it’s supposed to be a statement or a question doesn’t come across clearly.

Again, Yuri fails to respond with the immediacy necessary to dissuade JJ from drawing his own conclusions. In this case, Yuri can’t even say for certain if the conclusions JJ might come to would be the wrong ones.

He remembers touching JJ, that year leading up to Berlin, when he did everything he could possibly think of to get under Isabella’s skin. He would lean into JJ’s space, breathe in such an obvious way that anyone paying even the slightest bit of attention would assume he was drawing JJ’s scent into his lungs. He stole JJ’s drinks at banquets, and at the clubs they followed their friends to after — champagne and wine, beer, rum and coke, and several shots Yuri would always regret after.

Once, while they were waiting for their drinks at a bar, Yuri traced one of JJ’s tattoos — the forest and mountain scene that covers the entirety of JJ’s left forearm. Yuri ran the tip of his index finger over thin tree trunks and branches, followed the jagged lines of a mountain peak up to JJ’s inner elbow, with a suggestive smirk and hooded, sensual eyes Yuri could blame on one too many shots of tequila. He traced the veins beneath JJ’s skin. He felt up JJ’s bicep, making himself sound tipsier than he was as he uttered bitter little comments that an egotistical man like JJ could read as compliments, like _“Why do you have to be so huge?”_ and _“How do you even clear jumps when you’re so massive?”_

It was nothing more than a senseless game at first. Yuri did what he thought he had to, what he thought might finally grant him a victory against Isabella. The effort paid off, but the longer he kept it up, the more Yuri caught himself looking at JJ not because he needed to, but because he kept finding tiny pieces of JJ that appealed to him. Yuri spent the entirety of their only Grand Prix assignment that year — Skate Canada — forcing himself to look away.

During practice, his eyes were inevitably drawn to JJ’s broad shoulders, his strong back, his powerful thighs. When they stood on the podium together, JJ with gold, Yuri with silver, and Emil with bronze — a perfect recreation of the podium Yuri stood on at the age of fifteen — Yuri glowered at JJ from the get go instead of trying to ignore him, taking the time to study JJ’s stupid, handsome face and lopsided smile, concealing any interest beneath a glare. He was annoyed not by JJ’s victory over him, but by the very real attraction he was just beginning to notice.

“I wouldn’t have done anything,” Yuri sneers, forgetting for once to deny it.

JJ frowns sadly. It’s difficult to determine why, until he says, “When we fought yesterday, Bella accused me of letting our marriage break down so I could be with you.”

Once again, Yuri finds himself incapable of looking JJ in the eye. He looks at Melody again instead — at her eyes, so much like Isabella’s, but silver-blue, and the wide smile that peeks out from between the toys she continues to lavish with drool.

“Did you?” Yuri asks, when he feels brave enough to do so.

JJ sighs sadly. His mouth dips into a frown. “Of course not.”

Yuri can’t decide where the resulting disappoint stems from. He chooses to believe it’s the spite he carries for JJ’s wife.

“If I’d known how things were with me and Bella, I would have done anything I could to fix it. But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t…” JJ drifts off for a moment. He shifts on the floor, posture going tight with something that seems like shame. “You were always there… in my head. If I didn’t have Bella, I’m not sure I would have stayed away from you.”

Slowly, Yuri draws more air into his lungs. Determinately, his gaze remains locked on Melody.

“I looked at you when I shouldn’t have,” JJ concedes. “I flirted with you when I shouldn’t have. There’s a part of me that’s always wanted you, but I didn’t let myself acknowledge it back then. Maybe Bella figured it out. Maybe she always knew.”

Given the experiences Yuri’s had with JJ’s wife over the years, and the manner in which Isabella’s mockery gave way to aggression, that she suspected there might be more to JJ’s teasing behavior seems likely.

“I was too caught up in myself. I spent more time focusing on my career than I did on my wife. I was so self-centered I didn’t even _think_. I thought, because Bella and I loved each other, that was enough. That was all we needed.”

Yuri’s eyes drift up toward JJ, but JJ isn’t looking at him. He’s staring down at Melody, gently running a hand over her dark hair.

“It was a wakeup call, when things fell apart. Even when we stopped going to marriage counseling, I still saw a therapist, because I couldn’t…” JJ pauses to swallow. “Because it was partly my fault, and I couldn’t live with myself if I messed up something else because I was too driven by my own ego.”

Melody gurgles and flings her stuffed octopus around. She accidentally releases it, and stares in confusion when it lands somewhere off screen.

Something painful wends its way through Yuri’s chest. It isn’t hot and searing like anger or jealousy, but sharp and cold. His eyes drift between JJ and Melody as they’re set upon by silence.

He should say something to dispel the tension. This isn’t the conversation he meant to have. It was supposed to be simple and matter of fact, not laced with uncomfortable confessions. At most, it was meant to help Yuri come to a decision. Instead, it’s changed things between them — not in such a way that their relationship is suddenly unrecognizable, but in a manner that leaves them both exposed, unable to hide their growing feelings beneath denial or carefully maintained restraint.

Yuri slumps onto the mattress, pillowing his head against his arms. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever you want to do,” JJ says.

“Why is it what _I_ want? What do _you_ want?”

“I’ve already told you what I want.”

Yeah, the kissing. The handholding. The cuddling. The sex. Dinners and family introductions and all those little behaviors that, in an earlier, more traditional time, were signifiers of the establishment of a legitimate romantic relationship. The sort of things one might expect from a new couple just starting to blend their lives together. Nothing about a baby. Nothing specific to Yuri, anyway, beyond the desire for “another.”

JJ could have _another_ with anyone. Yuri’s participation would hardly be a requirement when JJ could just as easily adopt or find a surrogate.

“But do you want a baby with _me_ ,” Yuri says, not so much asking a question as he is parroting one of JJ’s back at him.

That JJ hesitates before answering seems telling, as do the carefully chosen words that follow. “I’d be happy to have a baby with you.”

“Because you sympathize with me? Or because it’s been something you’ve wanted since the first time we fucked?”

Yuri looks back at the screen, his expression defiant, _daring_ JJ to lie, or to spout off some sweet comment meant to set Yuri off track. There’s no way JJ wanted this before Colorado Springs. He didn’t even know _Yuri_ wanted a baby, or that Yuri had any inclination to develop a relationship beyond fuck buddies. At the earliest, the thought crossed JJ’s mind during dinner with their friends. More than likely, it was the banquet that did it — the very night JJ first brought it up.

He couldn’t have thought it through. If he has since then, he’s as lost and confused by it as Yuri is. It's obvious now that neither of them have the right answer.

JJ hoists Melody up, turning her around to let her rest against his shoulder. She drops the ball she was playing with and sucks on one of her fists while JJ’s hand rubs along her back.

“Can we at least give this a try?” JJ asks, and he looks so earnestly hopeful, Yuri’s traitorous heart stutters through a beat. “Come back to Montreal with me after Worlds. We don’t have to make any decisions right away. We can see how things go.”

It’s a reasonable suggestion. Far more so than JJ’s irrational desire to jump right into things. And even though Yuri knows, deep down, where this will probably lead, it sets his mind at ease to take a step back, however temporarily that might be.

They can give the concept of having a baby together the amount of consideration it deserves before actually committing to it. They can settle into this relationship in a more natural way instead of rushing ahead. They can explore how they might coexist with one another in a way they’ve not had the opportunity to until now — as friends, as lovers, as romantic partners, and, yes, as potential parents. They can work out whatever kinks might crop up with prolonged contact. They can be mature and level-headed.

Except Yuri is neither of those things — mature, maybe, depending on the situation, but not so much level-headed, as demonstrated by some of his behavior this last month.

Yuri sighs heavily and pushes a layer of hair out of his face. “I’ll have to talk to Yakov and Lilia about my schedule. You don’t have any shows after Worlds?”

“Not this year. I’d rather spend as much of the off-season with Melody as I can.”

“Deda wants to meet you.” If Yuri glances off to the side as he says it, it’s because he’s just spotted a tiny stain on the blanket, _not_ because he’s nervous.

(Only he is. A little. Their families are so different. What if it’s awkward?)

“Your grandfather?” JJ clarifies.

“Mmm.”

JJ’s eyes brighten. Yuri sees it as soon as he lifts his gaze back up. A tentative smile curves the corners of JJ’s mouth.

“We can do that,” JJ says. “I’d like that.”

Yuri snorts, rolling his eyes more out of habit than ridicule. “You would.”

“I can bring Mel with me, if he wants to meet her.”

Deda hasn’t mentioned anything about that, but judging by the amount of times he’s asked “He has a daughter? Have you met her? What’s her name? Do you have pictures?” Yuri assumes Deda would not be against a visit with her.

“Yeah, okay,” Yuri agrees.

“I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you, you know,” JJ says, some of that recent gentleness working its way into his voice.

“Who says I feel pressured?”

JJ arches a brow. “You kind of just finished freaking out.”

“I did not.”

“So you mean you’re _not_ finished freaking out?”

Yuri huffs and glares at him petulantly. As much as he’s secretly glad to hear JJ teasing him again, he isn’t about to let JJ know it. “Shut up.”

“You’re so cute when you act like a brat.”

“Am I ever not cute to you?”

JJ hums and looks up at the ceiling like he’s giving the question some serious thought.

“You’re supposed to say ‘no, you’re always cute,’” Yuri grumbles.

“I am?” JJ's gaze lowers. His smile widens, edging toward self-satisfied.

“Isn’t that what a boyfriend does?”

“So I _am_ your boyfriend?”

“You like to think you are.”

“This is true,” JJ allows. “But when I ask, you don’t deny it.”

Yuri swears irritably. “Dumb fuck.”

“Shouldn’t _you_ be telling me how cute _I_ am? Or is this relationship going to be seriously unbalanced?”

“You’re _not_ cute,” Yuri says. _Cute_ is the last word he would use to describe JJ. Well, that and _miniscule_. “You’re…”

He trails off in indecision, examining JJ’s face while he contemplates a suitable response. “Handsome” would be the most accurate description, but that’s more than Yuri cares to admit to JJ’s face when he can’t even offer verbal agreement whenever other people make that claim. “Sexy” might be the better choice, if only because they’ve fucked enough that it should be obvious by now that Yuri finds JJ attractive. But that still seems like too much to reveal after he’s spent so long denying it to everyone. (Except, apparently, that one time he was drunk in China with Guang Hong and Phichit.)

JJ’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I’m what?”

“You’re too _alpha_ to be cute,” Yuri spits out, because it’s true, but it also doesn’t expose too much. And considering a lot of JJ’s mannerisms lean toward old-fashioned, gentlemanly alpha male, he’ll probably take it as a compliment.

Indeed, JJ grins broadly. “You’re sweet when you want to be.”

Yuri mutters another swear. “Shithead.”

“That’s why you’re Sweetpea.”

Yuri scoffs and rolls his eyes. He tries very hard _not_ to have a positive reaction, biting at his cheek to stop his expression from acquiring even the slightest trace of satisfaction.

“Unless you like Baby better,” JJ continues.

“I’ve told you to call me Yura.”

“Yeah, but you also haven’t told me to drop the pet names.”

This would be the perfect opportunity to do so.

Yuri doesn’t take it. He tells himself it’s because JJ wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

“Babydoll?” JJ tries.

“That’s so infantilizing.”

“But Baby isn’t?”

Yuri groans and drops his head back onto the bed. “Baby” would be just as bad, if JJ didn’t sound so hot when he says it during sex.

“Sugarplum,” JJ needles him. “My sweet Sugarplum Fairy.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised no one's taken that one and ran with it before. Especially after Baranovskaya took you on. It always seemed like the next step up from Russian Fairy.”

“Only _you_ would be lame enough to go there.”

“I still don’t hear you complaining.”

Yuri responds with another heavy sigh and a glare toward the screen.

Inexplicably, JJ’s expression makes a brief fall toward surprised, before his mouth stretches into a shit-eating grin. “Oh my God, you’re _blushing_.”

“I am _not_ ,” Yuri snaps. He isn’t. The pink in his cheeks is the product of rage.

Except he isn’t the least bit angry right now. A little annoyed, maybe, but only because he hates the fact that he suddenly can’t control his reactions.

“You _are_! Oh my God, that’s so cute! I’ve never seen you blush before!”

“It’s a rash.”

“Why is it you seem to get a lot of nonexistent rashes on your face?”

Yuri looks for any possible excuse to end this bout of teasing before it can accelerate. His gaze drops to Melody, whose quieted considerably since the start of the call.

“Melody’s asleep,” he observes.

“I know. She’ll be fine,” JJ says. “I have her nap on me all the time.”

“I don’t want to wake her.”

Yuri immediately yearns to return to Saint Petersburg so he can hold Karina again. He studies Melody’s little parted mouth and the hand clutching JJ’s shirt. Her chest rises and falls in a regular rhythm. She looks so warm and comfortable. As someone who’s had the pleasure of sleeping on JJ’s chest in a similar position, Yuri can attest to the fact that it is quite cozy.

“You’re saying you want to hang up?” JJ asks. His voice hasn’t yet lost the teasing lilt.

No, that isn’t what Yuri’s saying at all. Damn it all to hell, he _likes_ talking to JJ. When they get over the awkward bumps, it’s really sort of relaxing. It’s reassuring to know that they’re capable of having such normal conversations. In these moments, Yuri can almost believe their relationship won’t fail as quickly as he often fears.

But Lilia will be coming to harass him about dinner soon, and he really _doesn’t_ want to risk waking Melody by talking when she should be resting.

“I can call again after Europeans,” Yuri says — lowly, so JJ doesn’t think he looks forward to it, although Yuri knows his tone of voice isn’t enough to guarantee anything. “I’ll be bored at the banquet anyway. Europeans is always stuffy compared to the Grand Prix events and Worlds.”

“Because you don’t have us North Americans there to turn it into a real party,” JJ says. “Katsuki’s there with Orlov, isn’t he? Get him wasted. Or FaceTime me at the banquet. I’ll grab Sophie and we can liven things up a bit.”

“You think way too highly of yourself.”

“It’s one of my most attractive qualities.”

Yuri stifles a tiny laugh behind a snort.

“Again, you’re not denying anything.”

“Shut the fuck up. I have to go eat.”

“Okay,” JJ says. He seems happier than he was when the call began, but he deflates just a little at the prospect of disconnecting.

Yuri _almost_ feels bad; he can relate, after all. It sucks not being able to do what he wants, which is to touch JJ, maybe stroke his beard (okay, _definitely_ stroke his beard, because the more Yuri sees it, the more appealing it is), kiss him senseless, fuck the way they did the morning they left Colorado Springs — which was perhaps too slow to actually be considered fucking, but it’s a less anxiety inducing term than anything else Yuri could use to describe it.

Hell, they could even sit in silence, simply lean into one another and draw comfort from each other's presence. _Anything_ would be preferable to the distance and solitude.

“Good talk, sweetpea,” JJ continues. “This was a positive step forward for us.”

“If you say so,” Yuri grumbles.

“I do. Now hang up before we start bantering back and forth again. We’ll talk soon.”

Yuri huffs through his nose.

“Good luck, Sugarplum Babydoll. Dedicate your win to me.”

“I will end you if you call me that in public,” Yuri warns him.

JJ smile goes soft, just like his eyes. “You’d try.”

Disconnecting is more difficult that it should be. Yuri stares between JJ and Melody again. He doesn’t feel too embarrassed by it this time, because JJ stares back just as intently. When they finally say their farewells, Yuri closes his laptop before he does something stupid — like immediately call back. He has nothing worth staring at now, so he lowers his head onto his arms and pretends he isn’t moping.

He does not _mope_. Viktor mopes. Georgi mopes. Mila used to mope about Sara. Yuri isn’t Viktor or Georgi _or_ Mila. He refuses to be. Pining is a stupid waste of time and energy. He never did it before. (He did. With Otabek, of course. But he hates thinking about that, so it’s better to act as if it never happened.) He certainly isn’t about to start _now_. Not for JJ of all people.

Stupid, handsome, _charming_ JJ.

Yuri groans and lifts himself up, only to turn and flop back onto the bed in the opposite direction, resting among the pillows. The silence of his hotel room weighs heavily on him. He very nearly resents the fact that he lucked out and got his own room.

Talking to someone else might help. He needs to work through the rest of his uncertainty somehow. He’d call Deda, but it’s getting late in Moscow and Yuri would rather not disturb him if he’s sleeping. He could talk to Otabek, especially now that Isabella’s back in Montreal, but Yuri isn’t ready to confess to him about the baby plan yet. Mila would relentlessly tease him if he talked to her. Viktor would act like an airhead about it, or ask more questions about Yuri’s reasons for being in a relationship with JJ. Yuuri would be the more dependable choice between the pair of them. Or Nadya, given how calm or enthusiastic she usually is about everything.

Or Lilia…

No. That might be a recipe for disaster. Yuri has no idea how supportive Lilia would actually be. She doesn’t seem to disapprove of JJ, though she certainly favors discretion for the time being. Yuri likes to think she’d approve of his desire to have a baby, too. If not immediately, then over time, once she’s had the chance to grow used to the idea. He’d rather not get into it yet, though. He already has to break it to her that he wants to take some time off. Even if he knows she’ll ultimately accept the decision, she’ll probably mourn in secret.

In the end, Yuri puts off readying himself for dinner and chooses to wait until Lilia comes to fetch him. He curls around one of the pillows and looks up stupid shit on his phone. Things like “Signs our relationship will last,” and “How to know if they’re The One,” and “My partner and I want a baby. Are we ready for it?”

He _is_ ready. He _knows_ he is.

And even though this turn of events will likely be better than the impulsiveness both he and JJ fell victim to before, Yuri still can’t dispel the impatience that holds his heart in an unrelenting grasp.

* * *

 [A selfie of Yuri lounging on his bed in his hotel room. His expression seems to be stuck somewhere between grumpy and sad.]

**11,061 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** lonely #vienna #europeans2023 #pityme

 **Jjleroy!15** :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 :(  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky :(  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 :(  
**mila-babicheva** Poor baby  
**+guanghongji+** THIS MAKES ME SAD  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ COME VISIT ME  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky DON’T MAKE ME FEEL SO GUILTY  
**katsuki-y** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @katsuki-y Effort  
**_emil_nekola_** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola_ Ugh  
**v-orlov** Why don’t you just come out of your room?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov No

JANUARY 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be more to this chapter but, as always, Yuri and JJ had minds of their own and didn't follow the plan.
> 
> Anyway! I'm loving all of your comments! Thank you so much! Please please continue! Scream about Pliroy with me! It's my favorite thing to do these days!


	5. Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri basically does whatever the hell he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the first scene in this chapter was supposed to happen. Then Yuri decided to do his own thing.
> 
> I know there's some formatting issues with some of the italics, but I've been up all night finishing this and I'm way too tired to read through it again to catch all of them, so I'll come back and fix it another time.

"Oh, when you walk by every night,  
Talking sweet and looking fine,  
I get kinda hectic inside.  
Oh, baby, I'm so into you;  
Darling, if you only knew  
All the things that flow through my mind."

\- ["Fantasy" by Mariah Carey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Irny35dRJo)

* * *

 

  

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home          [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)          Cats          Personal          Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **Ruffians and thugs, poison ivy, quicksand, cannibals and snakes, THE PLAGUE!**
> 
> POSTED ON 1 FEBRUARY 2023
> 
>  
> 
> YES.
> 
> THAT’S RIGHT.
> 
> THE PLAGUE HAS COME FOR ME.
> 
> THIS IS HOW MY LIFE ENDS.
> 
> I feel like death. Fuck fuck fuck, I hate being sick. It’s so fucking inconvenient. Sure, okay, it’s rare that I actually _do_ get sick, but _when_ I do, my entire fucking body completely shuts down. I can wake up in the morning with the tiniest sniffle, and a few hours later I’m laid out flat. Completely useless. Absolutely miserable. There’s no such thing as a minor cold with me. I get sick, and I’m _fucked_.
> 
> (Why is this the thing that fucks me? This isn’t how I want to be fucked.)
> 
> Someone come take care of me. Or put me out of my misery. Whichever you want. I have no preference.
> 
> Every drop of liquid in my body is leaking out of my nose. My head feels like it had a very painful meeting with a sledgehammer. Everything aches. My throat is so sore it feels like I decided to deepthroat a cactus in my sleep. (I am not sorry for the imagery.) My eyes are watery. People keep asking me why I’m crying.
> 
> I’M NOT CRYING MOTHERFUCKERS I’M DYING FUCKING LEARN THE DIFFERENCE.
> 
> I don’t cry.
> 
> Ever.
> 
> Okay, maybe once or twice in my life.
> 
> _Anyway_. I don’t have a lot I need to get done right now, so if I was going to get sick, this would be the best time for it, but FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.
> 
> I’m helpless. I hate being helpless. Today, I’ve been forced back home by Mama. Apparently dying alone in my apartment is unacceptable. She’d rather watch me suffer. (Have I mentioned my mama’s metal as fuck? Because she is.)
> 
> BUT DO YOU KNOW WHAT’S EVEN WORSE THAT BEING SICK??????
> 
> SHARK WEEK IS COMING. I FEEL LIKE DEATH AS IT IS AND _SHARK WEEK IS COMING_. I’M ALREADY GETTING THOSE PRE-SHARK WEEK CRAMPS. YOU KNOW THE ONES THAT ARE LIKE “HAHA HEY BITCH GET READY THIS IS ONLY 1/100TH OF THE PAIN I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU.”
> 
> WHY IS THIS MY LIFE????
> 
> (I know, “First world problems.” Shut the fuck up and let me whine.)
> 
> PS CHECK OUT THE POEM I JUST WROTE:
> 
> Do you know
> 
> what would be
> 
> so nice
> 
> right now?
> 
> A warm
> 
> chest
> 
> to sleep on.
> 
> But
> 
> I can’t have that
> 
> because
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> _distance_.
> 
> One day my writing’s going to make me famous. Just you wait. (Jk my writing sucks.)
> 
> Whatever. My entire life is just way too fucking inconvenient right now. Someone trade me.
> 
> No, jk, don’t. I don’t want your life. My boyfriend’s way hotter than yours.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Personal, Yulia is a big baby, whine whine whine, the world’s smallest violin

* * *

[A close up of Lilia’s face. She is, of course, frowning sternly at the camera.]

**32,471 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** I sold my soul and I don’t regret it but also I hate that I can’t say no to this woman #dancemom #home

 **mila-babicheva** What did you do?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva I had the nerve to whine at her  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky How dare you  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva You have committed the gravest of sins  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @v-nikiforov Bitch you don’t even know. She never trained you  
**v-nikiforov** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva No but I watched Yakov try to whine once and the results were terrifying  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky Wait you’re capable of whining???  
**katsuki-y** @phichit+chu You mean you never knew???  
**phichit+chu** @katsuki-y I always thought he just rages at people and throws things  
**katsuki-y** @phichit+chu He does that too  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu @katsuki-y Go away  
**katsuki-y** If you just took her advice you wouldn’t get a scolding. You know she’s always right.  
**yuri_plisetsky** @katsuki-y I don’t need a lecture from you too  
**katsuki-y** @yuri_plisetsky I don’t lecture though. I tell the truth with a smile on my face. :)  
**Jjleroy!15** Poor sweet little _________ ________  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING DIPSHIT YOU’RE LUCKY YOU LEFT BLANKS THERE  
**phichit+chu** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky What’s he saying???  
**yuri_plisetksy** @Jjleroy!15 @phichit+chu NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS AND IF HE TELLS YOU HIS LIFE WILL BE FORFEIT  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu @yuri_plisetsky Hint: it’s like russian fairy only sweeter

FEBRUARY 2

* * *

The European Championships end exactly as Yuri expects them to: with gold around his neck. At least Emil takes silver, so Yuri isn’t forced to stand on the podium sandwiched between Vasiliy and some other obnoxious brat. Still, the lack of motivation continues to eat at him all throughout the medal ceremony and the press conference after. It’s nearly impossible to celebrate. There doesn’t seem to be a reason to. Not even the exhibition that weekend manages to lift his spirits; his performance of “Because the Night” is laced not with unfulfilled lust this time, but melancholy infused frustration (and rage, because he should _not_ be melancholy).

The best part of the whole ordeal is FaceTiming JJ from the banquet. Despite JJ’s promise to “liven things up,” Yuri spends most of the call watching Melody giggle and bounce to the sound of the music through the speakers. Out of everything Yuri’s consented to do that week, the hour long call is the only thing that doesn’t feel like a total waste of time.

On the flight back to Saint Petersburg, from the seat beside him, Lilia says, “You’re depressed.”

“Depressed” seems like an exaggeration, but Lilia goes on to bring attention to the fatigue and the general lethargy he’s been exhibiting since the beginning of the year, so Yuri lets her think what she wants. It’s easier than contradicting her when he doesn’t have much proof beyond his word.

“You’ve been inattentive and careless too often as of late,” she adds.

Yuri glowers at that. Stubborn as he is, he resolves to prove her wrong by throwing himself back into practice as soon as they return home, a strategy that would have been successful if a sudden cold didn’t cut those plans short before he’s even able to settle back into his apartment.

He and Potya end up staying with Lilia for a while — because she _insists_ upon it, and because, when Yuri’s at his most miserable, he does miss being there. The priceless antiques and opulent furnishings always seemed more severe than cozy, at least compared to Yuri’s preferred décor, but it feels as much like home as Deda’s apartment in Moscow.

It isn’t objects or places or decorations that make a home, Yuri’s learned.

It’s people.

He’s on the couch, wrapped in a blanket with Potya warming his feet, a pile of tissues scattered all around them, halfway through a book titled _“All Of My Friends Are Married With Kids And I’m Just Trying To Remember To Buy More Toilet Paper”_ when he blurts out, “I want to take some time off.”

Lilia has a little desk over her thighs on the loveseat, thin fingers flying over her laptop keyboard — probably working on her memoir. She lets Yuri read pieces of it every once in a while. He’s always surprised to find that it’s actually very amusing; he’s never seen her dry sense of humor used to such a great extent before.

“You have plenty of time between now and the World Championships to rest,” she says, without looking up from the screen.

“I don’t mean _now_ ,” Yuri says. “I mean _after_ Worlds.”

“We’ve already set aside time in your schedule for your trip to Almaty.”

“Right.”

 _Right_. Almaty. It’s his turn to visit Otabek this year.

Yuri cringes inwardly. As much as he normally looks forward to his trips to Kazakhstan, this year seems as if it’ll be… if not vaguely awkward, then vulnerable to added tension. He still hasn’t been able to bring himself to broach the subject of a baby with anyone other than Deda and JJ. Somehow, he needs to find a way to explain the situation to Otabek without inviting too much disapproval.

He might not tell Otabek at all, if only he wasn’t so horribly transparent to his best friend. It’s an easy thing to avoid when they’re separated by over four-thousand kilometers. Sitting face to face — without the filter of a computer screen or the benefit of an undetectable scent — concealing his motivations, and the feelings those motivations arouse, will no doubt be a more difficult task, if not completely impossible.

He’s fucked if he doesn’t figure any of this shit out before Otabek gets one look at him in person. Yuri can already hear Otabek’s voice in his head. _“Didn’t I tell you not to do anything rash?”_

 _Fuck you_ , Yuri thinks, but it’s a weak effort. He banishes the voice as well as he can. _I know what I’m doing_.

Perhaps if he keeps telling himself that, he’ll eventually come to believe it.

“What if I wanted more time off after Almaty?” he asks.

Lilia stops typing long enough to meet Yuri with a look of mild concern. “Is your grandfather not well?”

Yuri shifts against the couch uncomfortably.

At any other time, about any other topic, he’d have no trouble getting straight to the point. When they’re not in the dance studio — where Lilia is all business — and when Yuri hasn’t done anything to earn a lecture from her, Lilia can be surprisingly like Deda. She lets Yuri speak. She considers his opinions when he expresses them. She reassures him as needed. She only talks over him when she’s correcting his language; she never dismisses what he has to say, merely encourages him to say it with courtesy instead of disrespect.

“Deda’s fine,” Yuri says. Then, rather like ripping a bandaid off, he forces out, “JJ and I want to make a trip to see him.”

Lilia’s fingers were poised to continue typing as soon as Deda’s health was assured, but she stops immediately when Yuri unveils his plans to her.

She studies him with the cool, calculating gaze he’s grown so accustomed to over the years, her expression completely impassive but for the glint of suspicion in her eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Lilia shuts her laptop and sets the desk aside. She assumes a more composed position — spine straight, shoulders back, hands folded loosely in her lap.

“I can rearrange your off-season schedule as needed,” she says.

Yuri would have liked to break it to her slowly. Test the waters for a little while. See how she’d react to one or two little changes before wading into deeper waters.

He’s had years to learn how best to approach his coaches. Be blunt with Yakov. Get the shouting over with fast. Never circle back. Stage the argument, say his piece, let Yakov rant, then back off. If Yakov changed his mind, he would come to Yuri later and say so. If he didn’t, there was no hope in convincing him; further argument would be pointless.

He has to be more careful with Lilia. She doesn’t have Yakov’s temper. She doesn’t have any of the other distractions Yakov has to deal with either. Training for Lilia revolves entirely around Yuri. She’s had the time to observe him in ways Yakov cannot. If Yuri wants to hide anything from her, or take his time confessing something, he has to put more effort into shoring up his defenses and controlling his scent, or else she’ll sense it from him before he’s able to utter a single word.

When Lilia’s reaction is to barely react at all, Yuri knows he’s already failed.

“It might need more than rearranging,” Yuri admits. “I was thinking about… maybe… not doing any ice shows this year?”

He’s made a mistake already. He should _not_ have made that sound like a question. The suspicious look in Lilia’s eye sharpens with realization.

“Is this apprehension I’m hearing?” she asks him.

“No.” _Yes_.

“Then I suggest you discard the evasive tactics before they begin. There’s no use dancing around the subject.”

Because he respects her almost as much as he respects Deda, Yuri squashes the impulse to roll his eyes. It seems he’ll have to throw caution to the wind after all.

“I’ve been thinking about sitting out next season.”

Lilia says nothing at first, simply watches him with those shrewd green eyes of hers. She makes a show of glancing down at his book. Guiltily, and with some embarrassment, Yuri hides the cover against his thigh — although, considering they’ve been sitting here for the last hour, Lilia can’t have missed it.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” she says, “and I expect an honest answer from you.”

“Isn’t that how questions are supposed to work?”

The flippant response earns Yuri a severe frown. He atones for his mistake by shutting the book and tossing it onto the coffee table, climbing out from under his cat and the blanket to sit up straight and offer Lilia his full, undivided attention.

“Have you been taking your birth control?” Lilia asks.

Yuri counts it as a success that he doesn’t flinch. “No.”

“When did you stop taking it?”

“Before Nationals.” _After JJ and I had sex._

Fortunately, Yuri’s answer is true enough that Lilia either doesn’t make note of his unease (unlikely), or decides not to make mention of it.

Of course, “before Nationals” could imply any time of the year between last January and late-December. That Lilia doesn’t bother to ask for clarification likely means she already knows what the answer is. She simply chose to test him on it.

“ _Why_ did you stop?” she asks.

Yuri bristles defensively but manages to hold her gaze. “Why are you even asking? You obviously know what the answer’s going to be.”

One of Lilia’s arched brows arches higher. “Very well. Why would you neglect to inform me that you’re trying to get pregnant?”

“Maybe because I wanted to put off the interrogation.”

Lilia’s poise breaks for a moment as she sighs. She lifts a single hand to press soothing fingertips against her left temple, where a thin stripe of silver is only now beginning to streak through her hair. “I thought you’d learned by now that you have no need to keep secrets from me.”

Guilt pricks at Yuri’s heart. He _doesn’t_ keep secrets from her. Not anymore. Not usually, anyway. There’s no use trying. She’s rarely fooled even when he does. She’s familiarized herself with him enough that she’s become eerily proficient at predicting his behaviors. Yuri wouldn’t be surprised if, like Otabek, Lilia already knew about JJ long before Yuri broke the news; she’s perceptive and observant enough that she could have easily figured it out on her own. She never commented on the beard burn or the hickies except to curtly remind Yuri to cover them up, but she also made no point to pretend that she was unaware of his nighttime dalliances. She certainly didn’t seem _surprised_ when Yuri finally said something.

Which would make Yuri wonder why she made no effort to steer him away from taking a lover who the world thought to be a married man. At least, it would if he hadn’t already read the part in her memoir where _she_ was temporarily involved in a similar affair in _her_ early twenties.

Eventually, Lilia drops her hand and eyes Yuri sharply. “Did you think I would judge you?”

No. She wouldn’t judge. Critique? Yes, absolutely. She’s been critiquing his behavior since he was fifteen. But where judgment draws a very clear conclusion, critique is always meant to encourage improvement.

“I assumed you’d try to talk me out of it,” Yuri says.

“Should I?”

“Are you asking because you really don’t know if you should? Or is this my warning that you’re about to start now?”

Rather than issuing another stern response, Lilia’s voice gentles. “My only concern is whether or not you’ve thought this through.”

Her scent is always masterfully contained. Yuri picks up very little from her. She doesn’t make a visible effort to detect his, but he’s sure she can. There’s no way she’d miss it. He’s learned a great deal from her since she became his choreographer and his second coach, but he’s still terrible at controlling his scent whenever he’s antsy or emotional.

If only he could tell her that he _has_ thought things through. He’s still in the beginning stages of it, which, considering the enormity of the decision, probably won’t please her.

All he can say is, “I’m trying to.”

The straight line of her mouth doesn’t change. “Then what plans have you made?”

“I might stay with JJ for a while,” Yuri says. “Over the summer. The lease on my apartment ends in July. I don’t think I want to renew it. I’m not really feeling it anymore.”

Yuri expects Lilia to admonish him for moving into his own apartment to begin with; she cautioned him against it when he first proposed the idea. Her eyes do gleam like she’s pleased to have been right, but she lets it go without comment.

“You’re welcome to move back in with me, of course, if you and Leroy—” She stops, perhaps unsure if referring to JJ by his surname is still appropriate. “... _JJ_ …” She pauses again. This time her brows furrow like she finds something about the nickname distasteful. Yuri assumes she deems it far too casual for a man she’s spoken to so infrequently. “... Jean-Jacques...”

“Just call him ‘dumb fuck’ or ‘shithead’ like I do. It’s easier.”

Now she frowns in disapproval. “Is that really how you speak to him?”

“You know it is,” Yuri scoffs.

“You should have more respect for your own lover.”

Yuri grimaces and sticks his tongue out in disgust. He doesn’t know what Lilia expects. There’s no way he’s calling JJ any of the gross shit he hears Viktor and Yuuri and Georgi and Nadya use. Or the shit JJ says. JJ doesn’t even look like a “Sweetpea” or a “Baby,” or whatever other saccharine term JJ might one day come up with. “JJ” is good enough. And the insults…

Well, those are habit. JJ doesn’t seem to mind them, in any case.

Lilia’s gaze turns penetrating, but when Yuri says nothing, she chooses to conclude, “You’re welcome here when you decide to return.”

Yuri doesn’t say that the “when” might very well turn into an “if.” By the resolved expression that comes upon Lilia’s face, he’s sure she’s well aware of it.

Instead, he asks, “How did you even know I’d stopped taking my birth control?”

“You’ve had quarterly cycles since you began taking it. You weren’t due for another period until this month.”

If he didn’t complain so much about his periods when they occured, Yuri would be a little unnerved that Lilia has been aware of the exact timing of his cycles. As it is, it must be difficult knowledge for her to avoid.

“You’ll need to rid yourself of this absentmindedness before you have children,” Lilia continues. “They do require a certain level of awareness from their parents.”

Yuri scowls. “Am I going to end up acting like you with my kids?”

“I like to think they’d be fortunate if you did.”

She’s right, of course. Lilia coming into his life when she did was one of the best things to ever happen at him, whether or not he’s prepared to confess something so deeply personal.

Lilia sighs again, but she doesn’t look overburdened this time. “I’ll speak with Yakov about your hiatus.”

“Thank you,” Yuri says with some relief.

Yakov always reacts with less outrage when Lilia’s the one to break anything to him that might be considered bad news.

“Let’s keep the rest of it between the two of us for now.”

“I have no complaints there.”

Lilia lifts a brow as if to say, “I didn’t think you would.”

At first, Yuri expects the conversation to end there. Lilia has her answers, she knows about his desires for next season, and she has a rough idea of his plans for the summer. She’ll discuss it with Yakov and they’ll determine how best to approach a return to competition after Yuri’s hiatus, provided nothing occurs to extend it.

He’s ready to reach for his book again when Lilia says, “You should see the doctor about another physical.”

Yuri pulls a disgruntled face. “I had one before the season started.”

“And an internal exam?”

The disgruntled face gives way to irritation. “That’s not even medically necessary.”

“It can’t hurt,” Lilia says. Then she adds, with an uncharacteristic nonchalance, “Make sure you’re taking a prenatal vitamin. The sooner you start, the better.”

Yuri would point out that she’s never had her own children and shouldn’t look to offer too much advice on the subject, but she’s wise enough about a variety of other subjects that she’s had little to no experience with, so he keeps his mouth shut and accepts it.

Sometimes, when Yuri sees her with Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina, and when he looks back over all the time he’s spent with her these last eight years, he wonders if she regrets never having children. She doesn’t seem to. He’s never noticed any sadness or longing in her. Maybe a life all her own, followed by one full of love and laughter with a family of her own choosing, made up of some of the most unlikely people, is _exactly_ what she’s wanted.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing yet,” Yuri complains.

“You have a talent for nurturing children.”

“You know what I mean. I don’t even know if I’m _going_ to. Or if I _should_.”

“You want a child,” Lilia says.

Uncertain if that’s supposed to be a question or a statement, Yuri says, “...yes?”

“You’re ready to have a child.”

This time Yuri’s response is less tentative. “Yes.”

“You’re financially capable of supporting a child.”

“Yes.”

“You’re emotionally equipped to handle the rather significant changes it would mean for your life.”

Yuri pauses on this one — not because he’s hesitant, but because he wants Lilia to know that he _has_ seriously considered this part of becoming a mother at least, whether or not he’s come to a decision about having the baby with JJ. The answer is firm when he finally gives it. “Yes.”

“Then why shouldn’t you?” Lilia asks.

“With JJ?” Yuri wonders aloud, bewildered by the suggestion, particularly coming from someone so prudent.

Lilia continues to project nothing but serenity in her demeanor. “Is he a good man?”

“Yes.” There’s no need to think about that. Aggravating though JJ might often be, arrogant though he might have been just a few years ago, no one can say that JJ isn’t good at heart.

“And he treats you well?”

That, too, is an easy answer. “Better than I deserve.”

“And he’s been a good father to his daughter?”

“Yes.”

“And _he_ wants a child?”

“Yes.”

“And you care for him?”

Yuri falters, suddenly uncertain — not because he doesn’t care, but because he _does_.

He never wanted to. Even as their relationship evolved over the course of the previous year, Yuri would have done anything to prevent himself from developing any feelings for JJ. “Feelings” may not even be the correct term to use now, because it seems to imply something deeper than friendship and a fledgling romance. Perhaps it’s a ridiculous thing to continue denying, given the state of things, but the thought of examining his emotions enough to come up with a proper term for them alarms him.

Yet Yuri _cares_ , in his own way. He cares enough to hate Isabella not just for the way she’s treated him, but for what she’s done to JJ. He cares enough that he feels comfortable in JJ’s presence, to the point that he looks forward to seeing him again, that he actually _misses_ him now, when he feels brave enough to admit it. He cares enough that he wants to sort out all the issues that have arisen in the seven weeks since JJ suggested they have a baby. He cares enough that, secretly, to himself, he thinks of JJ’s daughter in the same way he thinks of Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina — not quite his own, but special to him all the same.

He cares enough to want to be there — or here, or _anywhere_ — with JJ, instead of apart like this, with nothing but unfulfilling FaceTime calls to shorten the distance.

Finally, with his gaze focused on Potya beside him instead of Lilia on the loveseat, Yuri mumbles a quiet, “Yes.”

Lilia gives him a shallow nod, as if to show her appreciation for the admission. “And you trust him?”

“Yes.”

“Then, again I ask — why shouldn’t you?”

Yuri doesn’t immediately respond. Lilia is so curt and pragmatic with her arguments that all of the questions he’s posed to himself as he’s tried to make a decision, and all of the conflict he’s been experiencing up until now… it seems suddenly very weak when weighed against Lilia’s more simplistic view of things. Maybe she’s being far too casual about it. Maybe he should be seeking advice from someone with more experience in these matters. But she’s never led him astray before. As much as their opinions might often differ, he trusts Lilia. He’s _always_ trusted Lilia.

There are many things he could say to counter her arguments. He could bring up his career, which she’s dedicated herself to since he was fifteen; is she not concerned that he might be sacrificing it? He could bring up the potential move to Montreal, an idea that makes him feel vaguely homesick before he’s even resolved himself to it; wouldn’t she want him to stay? He could bring up every single reason he’s ever come up with to explain why his relationship with JJ might be unlikely to last for any considerable length of time; wouldn’t the uncertainty of it all concern her?

Only he can’t find the words, or the will to force them, when Lilia looks as unwavering as she does in that moment. He could argue, yes, and the points he would make might very well be valid, but none of them would change Lilia’s mind. She would respond with the same calm logic with which she’s handled this entire conversation, and, if Yuri looked deeply enough into his heart, he could admit that none of the things he could say would change his mind either.

If they had that power, he and Lilia wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.

“Every family is different, Yurochka,” she reminds him. Yuri relaxes, just slightly, when her voice and her expression soften. “Some may not be as traditional as others, but that does not invalidate them. If this is what you want, and if you and Jean-Jacques are willing to face the challenges that might arise from this with maturity, patience, and dignity, then I see no reason why you should not follow your heart.”

Can it really be that simple?

Yuri considers what Lilia’s said. She isn’t wrong. All he has to do is look at his own family to prove that no two are the same. He lost both of his parents when he was young — one to illness, and the other to whatever his father felt was more important than his own child. Deda raised him until Yuri was ten years old, then Yakov took him under his wing. Five years later, Lilia did the same — almost without question, as if she always expected she’d one day take a lost boy into her home. All the while, other figures came into Yuri’s life one by one, all of whom helped fill a void he never realized was there.

He and JJ don’t _have_ to be conventional. Yuri never intended to be in the first place. _JJ_ doesn’t intend to be, not now that his first relationship has ended so bitterly. They never really did do things by the book anyway. Most couples probably don’t go from rivals to secret fuck buddies to whatever he and JJ are now. _Boyfriends_ , if JJ had it his way. At this point, there likely isn’t a reason to deny that, except that Yuri’s never had a boyfriend. Using the term feels _weird_.

“Well,” Lilia says, effectively pulling Yuri away from his thoughts, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You always seem to.”

Yuri eyes her dubiously. “Are you telling me to wing it?”

Lilia’s lips twitch up so subtly, Yuri would not have noticed if he wasn’t paying close enough attention. “I’ve learned not to underestimate you when you do.”

Completely baffled, Yuri gapes at her as she rises from the loveseat.

“You need tea,” she says, turning for the kitchen. “And more medication. It’s been too long since your last dose.”

Yuri watches her go. He senses something warm from her when she passes. For a moment, he thinks it’s little more than a slight change in her demeanor. Only once she’s left the sitting room does he realize that he can smell satisfaction in her wake.

And that’s how Lilia tells him, in a roundabout way, that she would like more grandchildren.

* * *

[A mirror selfie taken by Mila, who stands sideways to show off the impressive curve of her pregnant belly.]

**21,031 likes**

**mila-babicheva** Just two more weeks left. And a day, but who’s counting? Me. I’M counting. Two weeks and a day :| #preggo #babycrispicheva #almostdone

 **sara-crispino** :)  
**mila-babicheva** @sara-crispino **❤❤❤❤❤**  
**christophe-gc** You look stunning  
**mila-babicheva** @christophe-gc Thanks mama c ❤  
**v-nikiforov** SOOOOOO EXCITEEEEED  
**mila-babicheva** @v-nikiforov Soooooooo ready for this to be dooooooone  
**v-nikiforov** @mila-babicheva Relax and enjoy it! You deserve to be pampered!  
**sophie-leroy00** Lookin good hot mama!  
**mila-babicheva** @sophie-leroy00 Thanks babe you da best  
**phichit+chu** I have to win this due date bet. I lost the viktuuri one hardcore  
**mila-babicheva** @phichit+chu Everyone lost the viktuuri one  
**christophe-gc** @phichit+chu @mila-babicheva Untrue. I guessed she’d be born a week and a half early, so technically I guessed the closest date  
**yuri_plisetsky** You’re going to be a week and a half late and give birth on my birthday  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky If you jinx me I will not be responsible for the gruesome manner in which I kill you

FEBRUARY 3

* * *

February’s period begins on the fourth.

It’s as awful as it was the month before, only Yuri can’t take the first two days off this time, because he wasted Yakov’s generosity during his post-Europeans cold. He’s tired and his head hurts and his face looks awful, and his nipples ached from sensitivity the entire week before, and Yuri would do anything, _anything_ , for some of Deda’s katsudon pirozhki. In his moment of weakness, Yuri curses himself as an idiot for discarding his birth control; having to deal with a period only four times a year sounds pretty good when his uterus feels as if it’s being ground into a bloody pulp.

A _very_ bloody pulp.

“I think I really am dying this time,” Yuri complains to Otabek over Skype on the second day. “There’s no way anyone can bleed this much and live.”

Otabek looks mildly discomforted by the conversation, which would amuse the hell out of Yuri if he didn’t feel like shit.

He starts keeping a record of his cycle with a phone app. He logs most of his symptoms, but chooses not to go to the obsessive lengths of tracking his body temperature every morning. Prenatal vitamins also seem like a useless expenditure at this point; he only starts taking them because Lilia hands him a bottle one morning, in that thoughtful yet austere “I know what’s best for you” manner she often employs. If she’s going to go through the trouble of getting them for him, Yuri figures he might as well put them to use.

Although, this secretly hopeful grandmother act she’s suddenly adopted is making it _really_ difficult for him to keep his thoughts in check.

Every day that week, before, during, and after practice, most of the other skaters around the rink give him a wide berth, either too scared or too experienced with his behavior to risk so much as breathing in his direction. The only one who dares to approach is Vasiliy, which Yuri actually allows on the evening of the fourth day after leaving the locker-room. He rather enjoys the chance to let out a putrid fart right where Vasiliy decides to stand. The look of horror tinged disgust that crosses Vasiliy’s face when he smells it is almost worth having to listen to ten seconds of arrogant chatter.

“You’re so attractive,” JJ says when Yuri shares the story over FaceTime. Someone else might have laced the comment with sarcasm, but JJ sounds more amused than anything — and completely serious, like he finds Yuri attractive no matter what he does. It’s a good thing, too, because Yuri doesn’t feel very attractive at all right now; his ego could certainly use a boost.

They’ve talked several times over the ten days since the European Championships came to an end. Usually, Yuri calls in the evening after practice, when he knows it’s lunchtime for JJ. Sometimes, JJ has Melody with him, and Yuri gets to watch her eat or play; just as often, JJ will be at the rink without her, and they have a chance to talk without the distraction. It still amazes Yuri that they can have normal, everyday conversations, without it devolving into anything hostile. Sometimes their chatting is lighthearted. Sometimes Yuri sulks and bickers, and JJ’s voice will lower carefully, more with concern and consideration than frustration or anger. They never shout. Not about one another, at least; Yuri still can’t keep the aggression out of his voice on the rare occasions JJ gives him an update on the situation with Isabella.

“She’s backed off for now,” JJ told him just last night. “She’ll be angry for a while, but…”

The “she’ll have to learn to live with it” remained unspoken but heavily implied.

Perhaps their opposite personalities are less of a hindrance than Yuri thought they would be. JJ is indulgent and knows how to soothe when Yuri’s temper threatens to explode, whereas Yuri is insistent and emboldens JJ to open up when he might otherwise attempt to pretend as if there’s nothing wrong. There’s a balance between them that Yuri never would have expected, one he begins to draw comfort from the more he notices it coming into play.

On Wednesday, Yuri makes the decision to call during his lunch break, which he takes late that day, to ensure that JJ is awake. Instead of going to the lounge or trying to find a quiet corner in the locker-room, or anywhere closer to the rink, Yuri waits until no one is looking and sneaks into Yakov’s office. He makes himself comfortable behind Yakov’s desk, feet along the edge while he reclines in Yakov’s chair, with his cell phone propped against a bottle of water as he and JJ talk.

“You should head home early,” JJ says, once Yuri has finished issuing his daily complaints.

“Can’t. Yakov won’t let me.”

Mirth dances in JJ’s eyes. “So you always do what your coaches say?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri grumbles, sulking as he shoves a spoonful of yogurt and granola into his mouth. “I already missed practice last week.”

“But if you’re tired, you should rest.”

“Mmm. It’s not as bad as it was over the weekend, though.”

JJ really should _not_ be as indulgent as he is. Yuri could grow to like it a bit too much if he isn’t careful — he _already_ likes it, though he’s shown surprising restraint by not allowing himself to take advantage of it yet.

Melody coos and giggles from her highchair, her face and bib stained with the remnants of baby cereal and pureed fruit. They’re both near the kitchen again; green cabinets and light countertops make up a majority of the background. JJ devours his own breakfast while Melody amuses herself with banging hands and randomly babbled nonsense.

When Yuri isn’t watching Melody, he’s eyeing JJ’s bare chest. It’s a shame the phone screen is so small. He’d like to savor the sight in its full glory.

“When does your flight leave on Sunday?” Yuri asks.

“I’m not flying, I’m driving.”

“Why?”

“Toronto’s not that far,” JJ says after swallowing a large bite of his omelet. “I like driving anyway.”

Yuri rolls his eyes but continues, “And Melody’s staying with your wife’s parents?”

He tries not to sound too resentful, especially since all evidence seems to indicate that JJ’s in-laws really aren’t awful people. They agree that JJ should have custody of Melody instead of their own daughter, so they don’t seem to be in denial about Isabella’s actions, or her readiness to care for a child, and every picture or video Yuri’s ever seen of them with Melody proves their love for her, as well as their continued fondness for JJ.

JJ’s lips twitch with amusement as he says, “With Bella’s parents, yeah.”

Yuri ignores the correction. He’d rather continue to refer to Isabella as “JJ’s wife,” whether or not that’s what she is, than force himself to utter any form of “Isabella.” The fact that she’s still a figure of any significance is bad enough without having to speak her name.

Melody babbles louder, a repetitive “ah~ah~ah~ah” that probably means nothing more than that she enjoys listening to the sound of her own voice. She ends with a belly laugh, then opens her mouth in a wide, delighted ‘o,’ reaching both arms toward JJ when she notices him peeling a banana. JJ scrapes a tiny piece off with his smallest finger and lets her try it. Melody’s works it in her mouth before she swallows, then she gurgles for more.

Her bib today is white trimmed in pink, embroidered with the words “Barf Vader.” Beneath that, Yuri can see her pajamas — turquoise with little yellow blobs he can’t make out too clearly through the phone, but which he thinks might be chicks or ducks. Her dark hair is mussed from sleep, with a single cowlick curling up at the very top of her head.

Yuri watches her, neglecting his own food, while JJ continues to share his banana with her. Melody looks toward the screen every once in a while, smiling as she does so, but Yuri can’t tell if it’s because she actually recognizes him from previous calls, or if she simply enjoys the look and function of JJ’s electronic devices.

He wonders if it’s normal to long for a child he’s never met in person, though that in itself — their unfamiliarity with one another — forms the very basis of his longing. It’s been nearly two months since “fuck buddies” became something more official, yet despite how much they’ve opened up to one another since then, Yuri hasn’t had the chance for a proper meeting with the most important person in JJ’s life. It feels wrong somehow, like he and JJ are moving forward without her, even though she’s _there_ , frequently within sight, and often the center of attention.

A thought materializes, so deep in Yuri’s brain it could have gone entirely unnoticed if his heart didn’t immediately pull it forward.

Lilia _did_ say to follow his heart, though perhaps this isn’t exactly what she meant.

Yuri lurches forward, feet dropping to the floor, his lunch all but discarded as he reaches for his phone. He brings it so close to his face all JJ can see are his eyes, and he says, a little louder than necessary, “You should bring her with you.”

JJ eyes him, bemused. “Who’d watch her?”

“ _Me_. I can meet you there.”

The beginnings of a smile quirk JJ’s mouth even as his brows furrow skeptically. “Feltsman won’t let you go home early after you missed a few days last week, but you expect him to give you time off to come out to Four Continents?”

“You can get me some ice time, can’t you?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay, so…?”

By the look in JJ’s eyes, Yuri assumes he likes the idea but doesn’t want to be too hasty about it. He’s clearly trying hard not to let the excitement get the best of him. The amount of effort he’s putting into restraining himself is actually quite impressive, considering every fiber of his being probably wants to agree.

Yuri would spout off whatever promises or reassurances might be needed to change JJ’s mind, if he couldn’t already see the gears in JJ’s head working to resolve the issues that might crop up from this.

“I could get you into Charlie’s rink for a few days,” he says.

“Is it close to the hotel?” Yuri asks.

“You can get there by subway.”

Yuri shrugs. “Then it’s good enough for me.”

Absently, JJ holds his finger out to offer Melody more banana. She eats it happily, then starts to gnaw on JJ’s finger when he doesn’t pull it back right away.

“I’ll have to let Bella know,” JJ warns him.

Yuri clicks his tongue and complains, “ _Why_?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do when she’s as upset about you and me as she is. She’ll be angry about it either way. I’d rather have it out with her now instead of dealing with it after she finds out from someone else.”

Yuri’s eyes roll back. Aggravation vibrates through his throat. He droops against Yakov’s chair; it shifts backward a few centimeters before Yuri catches himself with his feet. JJ chuckles quietly but doesn’t relent, which means they’d have to have a tense discussion about it if Yuri had any hope of changing JJ’s mind. If there was even a small chance that Isabella might not find out, Yuri would risk the argument. But there will be crowds of fans, pictures, and press coverage all week. There’s no way she’d miss it.

So Yuri says nothing about it. He lets the topic go, and when his mini tantrum ends, he sets his phone back down, scowling as he wakes Yakov’s computer. (The crazy old fool doesn’t even have it password protected.) Yuri searches for Sunday flights and scrolls through his options.

“You miss me that much?” JJ teases.

Yuri refuses to look at him. He knows _exactly_ which grin he’ll see if he does. “Shut the fuck up. This is for Melody.”

“You’re going to spend at least a thousand dollars on a whim just to see my daughter?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, though, as he scans through prices, he has no idea what the conversion into Canadian dollars would actually be.

JJ chuckles. “So then we won’t be having sex?”

The twelve hour and forty minute flight with a layover in Frankfurt seems doable. He’ll have to wake up obscenely early if he wants to make it in time for the 5:55 departure, but anything later than that would be a longer flight with two stops instead of one. He’d rather get into Toronto in the morning instead of the evening anyway.

Absently, Yuri says, “Right.”

“At all?”

“Yeah.”

“Not once the entire week?”

“Yeah.”

Yuri leans over to dig through the sports bag he dumped onto the floor when he first collapsed into Yakov’s chair. His fingers search blindly for his wallet, digging through a jumbled collection of unwashed clothes, protein bars, and a tangled pair of old earbuds to find it tucked into a corner, beneath a pair of skate guards he discarded months ago. Yuri pulls it out and rifles through it until he finds his credit card, ignoring the snickering he can hear from his phone as he returns to the computer to choose one of the few seats left available.

“I can be there by 11:35 on Sunday,” Yuri says. Then, almost as an afterthought, he asks, “Is that too early?”

“No, I was gonna leave early anyway. I can pick you up.”

“Good.”

“You’re not going to tell Feltsman first?”

“Nope.”

Yuri finishes plugging in the necessary information, then pays for the flight without any further discussion on the matter. A copy of his itinerary gets sent to four different email addresses — Lilia’s, Yakov’s, JJ’s, and his own. He prints out a fifth copy for good measure, slapping it on top of Yakov’s desk and grabbing a random red marker to write “Enjoy your vacation, old man” across the top of it.

When Yuri turns back to his phone, he finds JJ smiling at him. Even through the small screen, those silver-blue eyes visibly shine with excitement.

“You constantly amaze me,” JJ says.

Yuri snorts and restrains a smirk. “Good luck with your wife.”

“Good luck with your coach.”

Ten minutes later, just as Yuri’s finishing his lunch, Yakov’s voice roars throughout the halls in angry Russian. “ _YURI_!! WHAT IS THIS?! WHERE ARE YOU?! YOU GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

JJ bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Even Yuri snickers, though he hides the amused grin that accompanies it by setting his forehead against the desk. The only sign of his delight is the increased quacking of his shoulders as Yakov’s tirade continues.

* * *

[A selfie of JJ and Melody bundled up against the cold, both wearing a pair of sunglasses, though Melody is in the process of pulling hers down to her mouth.]

**87,830 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Baby’s first road trip! #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl #roadtrip #lifeisahighway #jjstyle #4C2023

 **maddie_trem** /greedy auntie hands  
**+guanghongji+** YOU’RE BRINGING HER WITH YOU????  
**christophe-gc** We get to meet her????  
**sophie-leroy00** Enjoy your 5+ hour drive loser  
**phichit+chu** WHAT??? IS THERE GOING TO BE A BIG REUNION AT 4C WITHOUT ME????  
**christophe-gc** @phichit+chu Seems like it. Just most of the europeans plus you and Otabek won’t be there.  
**phichit+chu** @christophe-gc Ugggghhhhhhhhhhhhh  
**yuri_plisestky** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc I’ll be there  
**phichit+chu** @christophe-gc @yuri_plisetsky WAIT WHAT???????  
**christophe-gc** @phichit+chu @yuri_plisetsky Wait what?  
**+guanghongji+** @phichit+chu @christophe-gc @yuri_plisetsky WAIT WHAT????????????????

FEBRUARY 12

* * *

Yuri ends up on the same flight as Yuuri and Kenjirou, which is fine, because his seat isn’t anywhere near them, so he doesn’t have to deal with conversation during the flight itself, but he also has company at each airport, where conversation is welcome so he isn’t totally bored.

“You don’t think you’re moving a little too fast?” Yuuri asks him during their layover in Frankfurt.

“No,” Yuri says, ignoring the concern in Yuuri’s eyes. _And_ in his scent. Yuuri doesn’t know anything about the baby thing, at least, otherwise the concern would probably be even more insufferable.

“It’s not like you to drop everything like this.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Okay, so you did it once when you were fifteen,” Yuuri allows.

“And now I’ve done it twice.”

Kenjirou grins, clearly entertained, his eyes wide and shining as he says, “I think what Yuuri’s trying to say is this is a lot of effort for a booty call.”

Yuri scoffs and side-eyes him. “Says the slut who’s had more international booty calls than all of our friends.”

Kenjirou isn’t even embarrassed enough to blush about it anymore. “I can’t help that I’m popular and in high demand.”

“Yeah, but _why_? Are you insanely good in bed or something?”

“I don’t know, I guess I must be.”

“Stamina helps,” Yuuri cuts in. _He_ , at least, goes a bit pink in the cheeks.

Yuri’s tongue falls out of his mouth as he gags. “ _Ew_. Please don’t offer up any details about your sex life.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

The flights themselves are awful, as they always seem to be. Having so many people crammed into a confined space means an almost unbearable mingling of scents. The anxious ones are the worst. From Frankfurt to Toronto, Yuri sits next to an anxious alpha woman whose scent ends up giving him a headache. He’d try to console her if he wasn’t such an asshole. He spends most of those eight hours and fifteen minutes curling away from her in his seat, burying his nose into the arm of JJ’s hoodie in the hopes that the smell of laundry detergent might help mask the less pleasant odors.

He’s in an aisle seat in the back, far too close to the bathroom for his liking. People come and go regularly, occasionally bumping into his elbow on the armrest when they’re not careful. The least annoying passenger is a cute toddler who wanders up and down the aisle with his father every couple of hours, shyly greeting the people who smile at him. Yuri says “hello” the first time and asks him if he’s having fun the second. The boy smiles and nods but doesn’t say anything, nervously clutching his father’s leg before moving on.

The plane is freezing. The food is unappetizing. There aren’t any good movies to watch, and the plane doesn’t have wifi. Yuri huddles into his multiple layers of clothing and accepts a blanket offered to him by one of the flight attendants. He listens to music and tries to sleep, but something or someone always disturbs him, and the headache edges toward a full blown migraine before they’re finished crossing the Atlantic.

Somehow — either by the grace of God, or intervention from Lady Luck herself — the wintery weather doesn’t delay them, and they touch down at Toronto Pearson International Airport five minutes earlier than scheduled. Yuri grabs his customs paperwork and his carry-on backpack before forcing his way off of the plane and into the terminal. His haste and rude shoving means he gets off before the more mannerly Yuuri and Kenjirou, even though they were closer to the front. He waits for them, then hounds Yuuri for pain reliever, stubbornly forcing it down without the aid of water.

Customs is a bitch. Customs is _always_ a bitch. The wait for their luggage is torturously long. Yuri still has his largest suitcase and a duffle bag despite his best efforts to pack light. He even packed a week’s worth of leggings instead of jeans, since leggings are more comfortable _and_ take up less room. (If he wants to dress like a lazy bum all week, then damn it, he will.) He heaves his luggage along, not straining beneath the weight of it so much as fighting with how cumbersome it is. A luggage trolley would help, but he doesn’t care to hunt one down or wait for one to become available.

When the end of his struggles _finally_ leads him to JJ, Yuri can’t be sure if he’s relieved more by the fact that he’ll soon be out of this place, or by the fact that the wait to see JJ again is over.

The overpowering blend of scents from the plane diffuses now that they’re in a less contained space. Yuri picks up JJ’s scent perhaps too quickly to be realistic. Maybe it’s all in his head, but he knows what to search for, and he could swear he finds it before he’s close enough to.

There are people idling around JJ when he comes into view — several young women and a couple of young men with their phones out. They talk while they lean in for selfies, not as animated as the Yuri’s Angels usually are, but just as thrilled to be in JJ’s company.

Yuri marches forward. He doesn’t have to announce his presence, because JJ turns as soon as he senses him there. The radiant smile that breaks out onto JJ’s face is almost worth the hassle of flying in.

But it’s Melody who Yuri’s gaze focuses on first. She’s resting against JJ’s shoulder, fast asleep, wrapped in a warm, white blanket speckled with purple stars and spaceships, with a pacifier, sparkling with rhinestones, nearly falling out from between her parted lips.

“Hey,” JJ says, a little quieter than normal so he doesn’t disturb her.

“Hi,” Yuri says. Tentatively, he reaches out and strokes a single finger against Melody’s soft cheek, before his hand slides up to touch her hair.

She’s warm, and very real, more so than she ever seemed in pictures or over FaceTime. She doesn’t stir, but Yuri pulls away fast instead of risking it.

“No kiss for me?” JJ asks, his voice still quiet, but obviously teasing.

Yuri rolls his eyes before looking up at him. “It’s going to be all over the internet.”

JJ shrugs the shoulder not currently occupied by Melody. “Not really much point in hiding it anymore.”

He seems to grow more and more handsome every time Yuri sees him. It’s unfair, because Yuri can’t say the same for himself; he almost regrets the leggings and oversized hoodie combo he chose to wear in place of a more respectable outfit. JJ’s dressed in his customary designer jeans, with a red henley under his wool coat. The beard, kept short and neat, looks even better in person. The additional dark hair has a way of bringing out more of the color in light JJ’s eyes. It creates an inviting frame for his lips, too.

Yuri sighs harshly through his nose, as if to make it clear that he’s more annoyed by JJ than he is happy to see him, but it’s little more than an act — a way to hang on to the last bit of his pride as he tilts his head to catch JJ’s mouth with his own.

They’re being watched. JJ’s fans haven’t drawn away with Yuri’s arrival. If anything, his presence there piques their interest even more. He hears a quiet gasp and a whispered “oh my god,” but the small crowd is silent otherwise.

The kiss is gentler than Yuri thought it would be when he envisioned this moment. No tongues, just a firm press of lips. Yuri cups the back of JJ’s neck with one hand and brings the other to JJ’s jaw, running his thumb over the hair there, softer now than it was as stubble. There’s more space between them than Yuri would like, careful as he is not to squish Melody.

They don’t kiss long, just enough to savor the feel and the smell of one another, before Yuri draws back.

JJ smiles slow and lazy, his eyes going soft. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine now,” Yuri says.

He regrets it immediately. JJ seems to take that to mean Yuri’s relieved to be here with him, and though a part of Yuri is, what he _meant_ was that his cold and his period have both ended and he no longer feels like death. One corner of JJ’s mouth twitches into a smirk. Yuri glares at him and makes a move to strike JJ’s shoulder. He stops himself before his hand connects, more concerned for Melody’s comfort than he is for JJ’s.

Yuuri and Kenjirou catch up moment’s later, pushing a luggage trolley they were patient enough to wait for. Yuuri’s scent bleeds forth, full of affection as soon as he sees the baby.

“Oh, look,” he breathes, drawing closer to get a good look at her. He doesn’t even say a proper greeting, just asks JJ, “Has she been asleep long?”

“Just for the last ten minutes or so.”

Yuuri practically melts, his scent quickly going wistful in a way that means he’s missing Karina.

“Did you guys want a ride to the hotel?” JJ asks.

Yuri scoffs and frowns over the offer while Yuuri answers, “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble. Otherwise we can take a shuttle or get an uber.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. If we shove the two skinny ones in the back with Mel, we’ll have plenty of room.”

They pause for pictures before leaving. Yuri doesn’t even try to appear gracious. He keeps his resting bitch face on and stands without posing. Quite a bit of attention is paid to the logo on his hoodie. One of the young women actually says, “But you didn’t go to U of T.”

“Does the hoodie even fit like it’s mine?” Yuri counters.

They depart as soon as JJ’s fans have had their fill, wading through a few of Kenjirou’s, too, before escaping the terminal to head for JJ’s car. Yuuri and Kenjirou drag most of the luggage along. Yuri wheels his suitcase behind him and keeps his backpack on, with the duffel hanging on his shoulder. He refuses to relinquish it when JJ offers to carry it for him.

JJ’s car is red. _Of course_. It’s a sporty looking SUV with the BMW logo. Yuri rolls his eyes and mutters “pretentious dick” under his breath, but at least the car seems practical instead of overly large, or unnecessarily fancy like one of the more ridiculous luxury brands, even if it probably still cost more than Yuri would ever care to spend on a vehicle.

JJ gets Melody settled into the car first, pulling the blanket off of her long enough to get her strapped into her carseat before laying it over her again. She stirs for just a moment, her pacifier falling out of her mouth as she fusses quietly, but she drifts off again as soon as JJ sets it back into place.

All of their luggage only fits into the back because most of JJ’s is stored up on the roof rack. Once everything is crammed in, Yuri climbs into the back with Kenjirou, complaining quietly as he does so, but taking the middle seat so he can sit next to Melody. Cautiously, he touches one of her hands. He manages to keep his gushing internal when she grips onto his thumb.

“I need food,” Yuri announces as soon as they’re clear of the airport. “And turn up the heat. It’s freezing.”

“You can adjust the heat in the back,” JJ says.

“What?” Yuri finds the controls on the back of the armrest between the driver and passenger seats, adjusting the temperature accordingly. “Oh.”

Now that he’s paying attention, Yuri notes that the car is stupidly nice. The seats are black leather and comfortably heated. There’s a high-resolution monitor on the back of each of the front seats, and sunshades on the back windows. There’s a fancy navigation and sound system up front, though JJ doesn’t seem to need the GPS at all. Yuri’s only complaint is that there doesn’t appear to be a USB port in the back; he doesn’t have a converter for one of the 12-volt plugs beneath the rear climate controls.

“Plug in my phone,” Yuri says, passing it into the front after firing off a couple of texts — quick responses to friends, and a message to Yakov and Lilia to let them know he’s alive and made it to Toronto. He’ll have to call Deda late tonight, when it’s morning in Moscow; Deda _still_ hasn’t bothered to update his technology enough for texting.

JJ takes Yuri’s phone but hands it off for Yuuri to plug in.

“What do you feel like eating?” JJ asks.

“I don’t give a fuck.” Yet Yuri continues without pause, proving that he _does_ actually give a fuck. “Something fast. Like a drive through. I don’t want to get out of the car. And make sure it’s really salty.”

“So McDonald’s.”

Lilia would murder him with nothing more than the harsh glare of her eyes if she was there, but Yuri doesn’t feel the least bit guilty when he agrees.

By the time they pull out of the drive through, Yuri has three cheeseburgers, a large fry, a vanilla milkshake, and a medium Coke at his disposal. He eats the fries first before they can go cold, then downs the cheeseburgers in quick succession, taking long sips of his milkshake in between. The rest have their own food, JJ eating one handed up in the front seat, and the drive to the hotel is mostly quiet as they eat, except for a bit of polite conversation between JJ and Yuuri.

When they arrive at the hotel, JJ, Yuuri, and Kenjirou head inside to check in while Yuri stays in the car to keep watch over Melody, who continues to sleep soundly beside him. Her pacifier has fallen out again, but she seems content without it for now.

After check in, the other three return to get rid of the trash and deal with transporting the luggage. Yuri gets the honor of carrying Melody, still strapped in her carseat, up to JJ’s room. He’s careful not to jostle her too much as he does so. She must be exhausted, because she only stirs once and falls right back to sleep as soon as her eyes slip closed again.

Once he and JJ are in the room, Yuri sets his half finished Coke onto the TV stand, then puts the carseat on the floor near the foot of the bed. He drops down to sit cross-legged in front of it, just watching Melody breathe.

“So do I get some of your attention now?” he hears JJ ask.

“I came for her, not you,” Yuri says.

JJ laughs and settles onto the floor behind him. Strong arms wrap around Yuri’s waist, pulling him back against a firm chest. JJ tries to attach his mouth to the side of Yuri’s neck, but he’s obstructed by the puffy, fur-trimmed hood of Yuri’s winter coat.

“You’re wearing too many layers,” JJ complains.

“It’s cold out.”

“You’re Russian. _And_ a figure skater.”

“We can’t all tolerate the cold,” Yuri grumbles. “It’s because I’m so fucking skinny. Turn the heat up higher if you expect any of these layers to come off.”

“I think I’m warm enough for the both of us.”

JJ peels Yuri’s coat off despite Yuri’s stubborn efforts to thwart him. With a rustle of polyester fabric and down filling, it’s tossed somewhere beyond the bed. JJ was right, at least — he’s very warm. His lips go to Yuri’s neck as soon as he has the hoodie and Yuri’s loose hair pulled out of the way. Yuri leans into it, basking in JJ’s scent and the soft scratch of facial hair against his skin.

He keeps his eyes on Melody, watching her shift in her sleep. One of her arms slips out from underneath her blanket. She flings it over her head as one of her rounded cheeks drops toward the opposite shoulder.

Yuri tries to disentangle himself from JJ, intent on searching the pockets of his coat for his phone to take a picture, before he remembers he never retrieved it.

“Shit,” he curses softly. “I left my phone in the car.”

JJ nips at Yuri’s earlobe. “Check my back pocket.”

Yuri turns around, bracing himself with one arm on JJ’s shoulder while the other slips behind him to discover that JJ does indeed have his phone in his back pocket.

There are more messages waiting for him — a warning to behave from Yakov, a heart from Lilia, and a slew of texts from Guang Hong, ending with a “We’re heading for the hotel. You better answer before I hunt you down.” Yuri doesn’t respond to any of them, choosing instead to aim the camera at Melody.

JJ catches him before Yuri can turn back around, arms caging him in. Hands slip beneath Yuri’s hoodie — there isn’t much point in calling it JJ’s anymore, when Yuri has no intention of giving it back to him. JJ snorts when he finds an additional two layers of clothing before he finally manages to reach bare skin.

Yuri shivers, more from the thrill of having JJ’s hands on him than from the temperature in the room. He drops his phone to the floor in favor of leaning in for another kiss, lightly sighing into it while his own hands rise to sink into JJ’s hair. JJ palms at Yuri’s waist before releasing him, pausing to drag the hoodie over Yuri’s head.

There’s a long-sleeved t-shirt left, along with a thin sweater over top — large black leopard print over solid green — but JJ seems satisfied for now. Their next kiss involves the barest brush of tongues. It soon deepens, drawing an appreciative groan from JJ’s throat. They fall together until JJ’s back hits the floor. Yuri hovers over him, mouthing at the line of his jaw, the tiny freckle on his cheekbone, the corner of his eye, one of his thick eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, before ducking back down to reattach their mouths.

It should be awful with McDonald’s on their breath, but Yuri finds that it’s an easy thing to ignore against the heat of JJ’s mouth, and the slick slide of JJ’s tongue against his own.

“Mmmm,” JJ hums through another pause. “I missed you.”

Yuri rolls his eyes like he doesn’t share the sentiment. “It’s only been two months.”

“Two months too long,” JJ says, nipping at the tip of Yuri’s nose.

“It was another month before that.”

“That wasn’t any better.”

“And before that it was more than eight months,” Yuri reminds him, his expression turning incredulous.

“Eight months of torture,” JJ laments.

“We weren’t even together.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.” JJ cards his fingers through a mess of blond to push the front layers of Yuri’s hair out of his face. “I’ve wanted you every day since that night at the Olympics.”

Yuri can’t hold back the look of shock that crosses his face. “Why the fuck didn’t you say anything? You could have texted. Or called. Or… at Mila and Sara’s wedding…”

“I thought about it,” JJ says, pressing a brief kiss to Yuri’s lips. “At the wedding. But Mel was due in ten weeks. I hadn’t told you about the divorce. At that point, I didn’t know how. And I had no idea what was going on with you and Bek.”

As much as Yuri would like to think the shift in his relationship with Otabek should have been obvious, he can’t really blame anyone for being confused, much less JJ, who would have been hesitant already. He and Otabek danced at the wedding — sometimes fast, sometimes slow. Yuri posted dozens of pictures of the two of them during Otabek’s visit to Saint Petersburg that summer, most of which clearly showed the affection between them. There’s a reason so many people always assumed they were dating; regardless of Otabek’s true feelings for him, they’ve never made much of an effort to disguise how much they care for and admire one another.

JJ’s other hand drifts away from Yuri’s back, lifting to cup his face and stroke a thumb along his cheek. “It wasn’t until the Cup of China that I thought you might actually be interested in more than just screwing around.”

“Because we fucked again?”

“Well, yeah, that,” JJ agrees. “And now that I think about it, your long program this season is a pretty good clue about the situation with Bek. That stripped down version of With or Without You isn’t all that hard to interpret.”

Annoyed once again by his own transparency, Yuri leans down to press a series of quick kisses against JJ’s mouth in the hopes of distracting him. JJ allows it for about five kisses, before holding Yuri’s head in place to look him in the eye.

The smirk that twitches onto JJ’s face is all the warning Yuri needs to know that JJ’s next comment will be infuriating.

“Then you pretty much begged me to knot you.”

Yuri jerks back, his eyes narrowing indignantly. “Fuck off, I did _not_.” He didn’t. He _can’t_ have. There’s no way he could live with the shame. It’s bad enough that JJ knows he enjoys it. “You asked. I told you to shut the fuck up and do it.”

“Is that what wine drunk Yuri thinks happened?” JJ taunts him. A single eyebrow rises in that irritatingly suave way Yuri has never been able to imitate.

“You were drunk, too.”

“Not as much. But you’re right. I did ask,” JJ allows. “Then you begged for it.” That smirk turns into a shit-eating grin. “You sound so sweet when you say please.”

Yuri smacks a hand against the center of JJ’s chest, earning an “oof,” followed by gasping laughter. JJ releases Yuri’s hair, only to wrap his arms around him again, pulling Yuri close against him before rolling them over onto their sides. Yuri punches JJ’s shoulder with the side of his fist and glares darkly. When neither hit proves successful in persuading JJ to knock it off, Yuri lifts a leg in a silent threat to knee JJ in the groin, but JJ shifts away enough to catch Yuri’s thigh.

“You’re blushing again,” JJ says, bestowing a noisy, wet kiss onto one of Yuri’s cheeks.

Indeed, Yuri’s face feels uncommonly warm. He hates it and lets JJ know but pushing his face away. “Shut. _Up_.”

JJ tries to restrain his chuckling, but doesn’t quite manage it. “You’re so cute I could die.”

“I’ll kill you myself!”

Yuri is saved from any further teasing — and JJ is saved from almost certain death — by the sounds of Melody waking.

She fusses quietly at first, whining and whimpering as she comes to. Then she starts to cry in earnest. When Yuri leans up to glance at her, her face is scrunched up, and her little bottom lip is curled into a pout.

Pulling away from JJ, Yuri scrambles over to her. He doesn’t crowd her, attentive enough to realize that him being there might confuse or scare her. Even so, he shows her a smile, reaching out to touch a single finger to one of her clenched fists.

“Hi, Melody,” he says, keeping his voice low and gentle. “Do you know who I am?”

Her pouting lip trembles and her eyes grow wet with tears.

“Hey, Princess,” JJ croons. He shuffles over to begin unstrapping her from her carseat. Melody cries louder as she reaches for him. “I know. You’ve been in this thing for hours. I bet you’re starving. You fell asleep before you could have lunch.”

Yuri sits back while JJ tends to her. She has her diaper changed first, which she doesn’t like, alternating between whimpers and choked off laughs when JJ blows raspberries onto her stomach. JJ talks to her the entire time, comforting her with loving words and quiet songs until he can dig into the diaper bag for a couple of jars of baby food and a spoon.

There’s a desk and a chair near the window. JJ settles down in the chair and holds Melody in his lap after putting a bib on her. He lets Yuri spoon the baby food into Melody’s mouth.

She’s hesitant at first, staring at Yuri with teary eyes and wet cheeks. Yuri gets down onto his knees to be eye level with her. He smiles encouragingly, and holds out a spoonful of pureed chicken and gravy without forcing it on her.

“Look, it’s Yura,” JJ says.

She seems to recognize the name. Her fussing grows quieter, and though her staring doesn’t take on an edge of familiarity, she at least looks more curious than timid.

JJ repeats the name, slower this time, drawing the syllables out. “Yuuuuuuraaaaaaa.”

Melody gurgles like she might be trying to repeat it, but she doesn’t accomplish more than an “Aaaaah~ah!”

“That’s right,” Yuri says anyway. He moves the spoon a little closer, waits until she leans forward slightly, then brings it to her mouth for her to eat.

He and JJ barely say a word to one another, choosing to talk to Melody instead. She calms more the longer she eats. Her eyes dry and brighten. She starts to smile between mouthfuls, giggling when JJ’s fingers dig into her side. When she finishes the chicken and gravy, Yuri switches to the second jar — a rather unappetizing combination of apple, spinach, and kale, though Melody seems to like it well enough.

She’s in a much better mood by the time both jars are empty, laughing, cooing, and babbling at the array of silly faces both Yuri and JJ make to entertain her. Yuri hides behind his hands and plays peek-a-boo with her. JJ feeds her a bottle of formula once the remnants of baby food are washed from her face. As he does so, Yuri sits on the desk to watch, bracing himself with his hands on the edge.

“So,” JJ says, turning his fond smile from Melody to Yuri. “How is she?”

Yuri doesn’t take his eyes away from Melody. She’s looking right at him, peaceful and content now that her stomach’s nearly full and the newness of the situation has passed. “Still the single greatest thing you’ve ever done.”

“You’re a pretty close second.”

Unconvinced, Yuri snorts and rolls his eyes. His gaze flicks from Melody to JJ. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

JJ smirks. “Flattery gets me everywhere with you.”

Even now, denial is still a comfort to Yuri. He doesn’t want to believe that JJ may be right. He should be immune to flattery. He would be against anyone else. Compliments are one thing, when they’re genuine. Flattery is another thing entirely. It’s overdone, almost unnatural, and it seems less honest because of it.

But somehow, JJ always sounds sincere, even when his flattery is edged with teasing.

“You’re beautiful when you smile,” JJ says.

Yuri glances away. As enamored as he’s been with Melody, his recent expressions have been beyond his control. This can’t be the first time JJ’s seen more than a restrained smirk from him, but it is, perhaps, the first time he’s seen Yuri wear such a tender smile for a prolonged period of time. Now that it’s been pointed out, Yuri bites at his cheek in an attempt to control it.

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

JJ chuckles. When Yuri chances a peek at him, he sees nothing but affection in JJ’s eyes.

Yuri bites his cheek harder. When that doesn’t work, he turns away to hide the look of satisfaction he can feel blooming across his face.

* * *

 **Angel News North America** @yurisangels_na

There’s been no public statement, but we expect there might be one coming soon. 

 

 

> **JJ Gossip** @jjgossipwhore - 28m
> 
> I guess there’s no denying this anymore.
> 
> [A picture of Yuri and JJ kissing at the airport.]

2:07 PM - 12 February 2023

 **81** Retweets    **342** Likes

 

 **ash** @ashlynnangel - 22m

Replying to @yurisangels_na

I don’t know how to feel about this

 

 **Angel babe** @1cefang1rl - 19m

Part of me is shocked and part of me is unsurprised

Yurochka could do worse I guess

 

 **Lola** @bunbunlo - 17m

JJ tho?

Yurochka what are you thinking?

 

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0 - 12m

Pretty sure he’s thinking fuck yeah i snagged myself a hottie time to get laid

* * *

They have dinner with their friends that evening, once Guang Hong makes good on his promise to hunt Yuri down, screaming at him in that jubilant yet somehow vaguely threatening way only Guang Hong can manage. Even with two tables shoved together to fit everyone at the restaurant, their group is incomplete, though the revelry does feel a bit like old times. Yuri observes as he always does these days, taking comfort from the familiar faces around him — from the competitors, JJ, Leo, and Kenjirou, to the coaches, Yuuri, Chris, and Seung-gil, to Guang Hong, the retired mother and supportive fiancé, and to the babies, Luna and Melody, cooing and babbling under the attention.

Later, when they’ve returned to the hotel and prepared themselves for bed, Yuri watches JJ sing Melody to sleep — the same song he sang over FaceTime in Colorado Springs. It’s soft and quiet, and as full of love as one might expect it to be, knowing that Melody has been the center of JJ’s universe since the day she was born. Now, unlike before, it rouses more than curiosity in Yuri. From the deepest place in his heart, Yuri _yearns_.

JJ must see it in his eyes, because once Melody is tucked safely into the crib, he climbs onto the bed and pulls Yuri into a passionate kiss, intense but unhurried, comforting, and full of empathy — and a promise, unspoken for now, that Yuri knows he won’t be able to refuse for much longer.

They fuck slow and quiet, careful not to wake the baby. After, Yuri falls asleep against JJ’s shoulder, lulled by JJ’s calming scent and the enveloping warmth of his body, while JJ strokes his hair and presses soft kisses to his forehead.

In the morning, when they wake to Melody’s bubbly gurgles, they laze in bed together while JJ feeds her a bottle. She stares at Yuri again, studying his face with innocent intrigue. She must deem him trustworthy, because she leans out of JJ’s arms once her bottle is empty. Yuri takes her, restraining his excitement enough that he manages to hold her in his lap instead of smothering her against his chest. She fists at his hoodie and struggles to pull herself up, so Yuri grabs her under the arms and hoists her onto her feet. He smiles as her tiny hands grab at his face, and he laughs through his wincing as she gives his hair a few rough yanks.

“She likes the blond,” JJ says.

“You don’t have any blonds in your family?”

“Just Maddie. And my mom has two blonde sisters.”

Yuri scoffs but doesn’t complain when Melody tries to eat a lock of his hair.

It’s difficult to leave after breakfast, but he has scheduled ice time at the rink where JJ’s brother and Maddie Tremblay train. Yakov and Lilia would scold him if he didn’t take advantage of it, so Yuri slips away for a few hours and returns early in the afternoon, just in time to take Melody when JJ heads to the arena for practice.

Yuri sits in the stands to watch. He feeds Melody lunch and plays hand games with her after. She smiles and giggles and doesn’t seem put off by the Russian nursery rhymes. She takes to him with an ease Yuri finds surprising, given that they’ve spent so little time together. She seems comfortable in his presence, making no fuss at the absence of her father, and snuggling into Yuri’s shoulder when she grows tired. Yuri puts his nose to her neck and breathes in her warm baby smell — and beneath that, the faint, sweet scent of a young omega.

Dinner that evening is spent with JJ’s parents, at a fancy restaurant not too far from the hotel. Alain and Nathalie are both welcoming. Nathalie even kisses Yuri’s cheeks and pulls him into a hug, though she keeps it brief, seeming to acknowledge his usual reluctance for prolonged physical contact with people who may as well be strangers. Between appetizers, entrées, and dessert, they spend entirely too much money, but with a belly full of steak and good wine, Yuri can’t complain, especially since JJ’s parents take care of the bill.

“You don’t have the same accent,” Yuri says later, once Melody is asleep again and he and JJ are lounging in bed under the light of the television, naked and sated after another round of hushed fucking.

“What do you mean?” JJ asks, tearing his attention away from some late night program.

“As your parents,” Yuri explains. “When you speak English.”

“Oh. Well, they spoke more French when they were younger,” JJ says. “Not that I didn’t, but we moved around a lot when I was growing up. We were in Colorado Springs for years. Then we went between Detroit and Toronto. I was in Montreal for high school, but I came here for university. I didn’t get back to Montreal again until about two years ago, when my parents started their skating school. So my accent’s sort of… neutralized, I guess.”

That isn’t the only thing Yuri learns about JJ over those first few days. Now that he has the chance, he spends some time closely observing JJ’s habits and preferences while distance and time aren’t an issue.

JJ would rather shower than sit in the bath; he doesn’t linger either, but washes quickly and spends more time on the rest of his morning routine. He doesn’t follow a strict diet, and he laughs carelessly when Yuri deems it ill-advised. He has packs of mint gum stashed away everywhere — in his sports bag, in one of his suitcases, in the pocket of his coat, and in the glove compartment in his car. He drinks coffee every morning; Yuri never sees him with a cup of tea. He has at least one glass of wine every night, which Yuri welcomes as an excuse to start doing the same. JJ doesn’t like yogurt or oatmeal, he isn’t a fan of blueberries, and he confesses to a lack of interest in poutine.

“That’s not very Canadian of you,” Yuri says.

“Okay, first of all, poutine is more specifically Québécois, not just Canadian.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t that make it worse that you hate it?”

“Says the Russian who doesn’t like vodka,” JJ counters. “Second of all, it’s not like I hate it, it’s just pretty far down on my list of ‘foods I prefer to eat regularly.’ Right there with avocado.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Yuri gags, then sneers, “ _Avocado_.”

JJ laughs and gives him a peck on the lips. “See, sweetpea? We have more in common than you ever thought.”

Yuri turns away to hide another smile. When he has a frown back in place, he eyes JJ skeptically. “We’re still more different than we are alike.”

“Our similarities help us get along,” JJ says, mouth stretched into a grin. “Our differences keep things interesting.”

Then there are the habits Yuri either suspected or was already aware of, which he’s now able to witness with more frequency. JJ is fastidious about his appearance. He rarely wears loungewear, unless they’re relaxing in their hotel room. Even when JJ isn’t dressed to the nines, he’s inclined toward snazzy designer clothing. He only ever wears JJ Style athletic wear, with the exception of his team jacket and a maple-leafed ballcap. He styles his hair every day — fetchingly tousled during the daytime, but neater in more formal evening settings — and he wears cologne custom made to compliment his natural scent. He has nothing against nudity; JJ seems so comfortable in his own skin, Yuri can’t imagine he feels insecure about his body at all.

JJ doesn’t have any nervous quirks — no lip biting or nail picking, no restless drumming of the thumbs or bouncing of the legs — yet he often rubs at his jaw or shoves a hand through his hair when he’s tired or stressed. His posture is so impeccable, even Lilia would be impressed. Aside from his tendency to tease, JJ is the perfect gentleman. He keeps a supportive hand on Yuri’s back whenever they walk through a crowd. He opens every door and holds it while several other people stream through. He’s polite to everyone — from the hotel staff to the servers at restaurants — and he has excellent table manners. He hasn’t helped Yuri into his coat just yet, perhaps out of some concern that Yuri might find such behavior suffocating, but he hands it to Yuri before they leave. And he offers to carry everything, but doesn’t press the issue when Yuri declines.

He clearly enjoys holding hands or curling an arm around Yuri’s shoulders; he does it everywhere, whether they’re walking or simply standing around. Otherwise, JJ doesn’t seem to favor too many overt public displays of affection, except for the occasional quick kiss — unless they’re around their friends, at which point the decorum seems to relax a bit. He’s incredibly intelligent, but he must have it in him to be humble about something after all, because he hides it beneath playfulness and a cocky attitude. He loves his family. He hardly ever disrespects his parents or his siblings; if he happens to snap at them out of stress or frustration, he apologizes immediately. He’s a patient and attentive father, lively when Melody’s happy and consoling when she’s upset.

Rather than the spirited parties he used to frequent in late adolescence, JJ now prefers to spend his evenings wining and dining. Though neither of them make a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day that week, JJ still planned ahead and made dinner reservations for two. They leave Melody with JJ’s parents that night and enjoy a quiet evening alone. And it _is_ enjoyable, outrageous as that might seem. JJ does most of the talking, but beneath the dim lighting and the cozy atmosphere, with soft piano music playing overhead, Yuri finds that he appreciates the chance to listen.

Later, when they arrive back at their hotel room, Yuri becomes reacquainted with the fact that JJ is also a generous lover.

“I want to have a baby with you,” JJ murmurs into Yuri’s ear, fingers hard at work between Yuri’s legs.

He’s been torturing Yuri for the last thirty minutes at least, fingering him slow and deep, then pausing every time Yuri creeps too close to the edge, soothing him with languid kisses and gentle caresses. Yuri would fend him off and take charge, except that the agonizingly slow pace is such an exquisite torment, he almost doesn’t want it to end. He rocks on JJ’s fingers, so hot and wet with arousal just from this, he doesn’t even care that JJ hasn’t paid any attention to his cock yet. JJ could ignore it all night and it wouldn’t matter, so long as his fingers keep pressing inside while he mumbles bullshit in that low, sultry tone of voice.

A burst of sound vibrates through Yuri’s throat — a frustrated groan tangled up with a helpless moan. He’s barely able to gasp out, “ _Fuck_ , don’t say that. You haven’t even thought it through.”

“I have,” JJ says, kissing a path down the side of Yuri’s face. “What do I have to do to prove it to you?”

 _Nothing_. Like this, Yuri doesn’t _need_ proof. He can’t get his brain to function enough to care if JJ’s being honest, or if he’s just saying shit in the heat of the moment. Yuri _aches_ for it. Profoundly. _Shamefully_. JJ could be lying and it would sound like the truth, because Yuri’s so blissed out he can’t tell the difference. He _wants_ it to be true, so he lets himself think it is.

And, _fuck_ , it’s still so _stupid_.

Yuri writhes and shakes his head, more to pull himself back from his own reckless impulses than to deny anything. Sweat dampened strands of hair stick to his face and neck. He feels overheated, even though JJ insists on keeping the hotel room cooler than Yuri would normally prefer.

“It turns you on,” JJ whispers against Yuri’s neck, stopping long enough to suck a mark into the skin.

“It does not.” Yuri tries to ground it out through his teeth, but a breathy gasp thwarts the effort.

It _does_ turn him on, and the very thought of that crushes him beneath the weight of embarrassment. Everything about this moment, everything about these last couple of _days_ , kindles the fantasies he’s tried so hard to keep locked behind an ever weakening cage.

The fantasies are different than they were before. Once, all Yuri had were images of a dark haired baby. They were always distinct, but subject to change depending on what traits he admired at the time — except the eyes, which never seemed to reflect his own. Now, when Yuri turns it over in his mind, the image of that baby fades just slightly, so the focus is less on the end result and more on the steps needed to bring that baby into being.

Sex, first and foremost. With JJ taking him apart so thoroughly, yet so simply, the prospect of this becoming a more frequent occurrence certainly has its appeal. If the negative pregnancy tests were good for anything, they reinforced the knowledge that getting pregnant may not happen as quickly as Yuri would like. Though acknowledging that grates at Yuri’s impatient nature, he’s soothed by the subsequent thought of regular sex. He’s never been in a position to enjoy that before. All of his previous experiences have been sporadic. A night or two here and there. A quickie at a club. A one night stand after a competition.

Then, once the sex proved successful, all the other changes would come into play — changes Yuri has accepted, but never dwelled on with either distaste or excitement. His body would curve with new life. His stomach would swell. His breasts would grow in — more than the puffy nipples he had at the onset of puberty, which diminished as soon as the adolescent hormones began to level off. _Real_ breasts, like Chris and Viktor and Guang Hong have — a growth of ducts and glands and fatty tissues for JJ to fondle and abuse with his hands and mouth.

JJ’s lips drift lower. He leaves another mark near the curve of Yuri’s shoulder, then licks the thin sheen of sweat from the dip between Yuri’s collarbones. Either by some coincidence, or because he somehow knows the path Yuri’s thoughts have taken, JJ mouths at his chest, kissing right over Yuri’s pounding heart before sucking on a nipple.

The moan that bursts from Yuri’s throat right then is mortifyingly eager.

It means nothing, the last speck of his denial insists. He’s just horny. That’s all. Of course he’d be pent up and desperate. It’s been two months since Colorado Springs. Two months is a long time to be apart after only one night together. Granted, they’ve been apart longer, but the eight months between those two trips to Beijing was a much different circumstance. Separation puts a heavier toll on a new relationship than it does on two friends casually fucking.

Though, perhaps it never was casual fucking, and the last year has seen Yuri deeper in denial than he previously thought.

He can’t rely on his denial now. He’s missed JJ’s scent, and the feel of his warm skin. He’s craved the taste of JJ’s mouth. At night, when he’s woken up alone, Yuri has longed for the weight of JJ’s body against his. He’s missed the stability of JJ’s presence, the comfort he finds in having JJ by his side. He’s conjured up the memory of the sound of JJ’s voice, the pitch of his laughter, the tenderness of his smile, and the beat of JJ’s heart beneath his ear.

JJ chuckles. His fingers slip inside again, pressing deliberately when he releases Yuri’s nipple. “Are you gonna come like this?”

“ _Fuck_.” Yuri arches. His eyes squeeze shut as his legs spread wide. His hips thrust erratically in a silent plea for more — for anything, or everything. “I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t.”

He doesn’t. Yuri _hates_ that he doesn’t. Everything would be so much easier if he did.

But then he wouldn’t have this — JJ touching him, and kissing him, and staring him in the eye with so much admiration beneath the amusement. Yuri can almost believe JJ has never looked at anyone else quite like that before. Even in JJ’s teasing comments, there’s a trace of reverence. It’s gratifying, but alarming, too, because Yuri has no idea what he did to deserve it.

Normally, his pride would offer a number of boastful explanations. He is, after all, rather confident in his own worth. Yet in this moment, when he’s so close to falling apart from nothing more than JJ’s fingers, Yuri’s pride fails him.

What _did_ he do to bring them here? Was it a single moment in time, or a number of events over the years that led JJ to the conclusion that this — the two of them together — was something he wanted, something he was willing to work for, maybe even fight for, in the aftermath of a relationship that, according to all logic, should have been better for him? What did he _say_ , through all of the frustrated insults, to prompt JJ to put in the effort, when it might have been better for the both of them if he’d walked away before they even got this far?

“ _God_ ,” JJ groans. “You’re so wet for it.”

Does it matter anymore, the hows and the whys of it?

Yuri grabs at him, one hand clutching at JJ’s naked back while the other sinks into that thick, black hair, yanking him into an urgent kiss. JJ’s ensuing laughter gusts against Yuri’s mouth. Yuri has every intention of slapping his shoulder, but JJ’s fingers press deep and draw another moan from Yuri’s throat. His hand tenses in JJ’s hair, gripping so tight it has to border on painful, hips bucking as his orgasm crashes over him.

JJ coaxes him through it with tender kisses. Yuri moans into JJ’s mouth, and his hold on JJ's strong body remains unrelenting until the waves of pleasure ebb. When the deep ache and searing heat are no longer quite so overwhelming, Yuri relaxes onto the mattress. Between gasping breaths, he returns each soothing kiss. The tips of Yuri’s fingers massage against JJ’s scalp in a gentle apology, easing the dull ache left in the wake of his thoughtless tugging.

After Yuri’s breathing has calmed, the body above him pulls away. JJ hovers on his hands and knees, smiling softly as he stares into Yuri’s eyes. Yuri’s hands smoothe over JJ’s back, sliding down his sides to rest on the waistband of his trousers. Yuri’s lips dip into a testy frown, irritated that JJ’s still wearing pants at all.

“You’re going to fall in love with me,” JJ says, effectively halting Yuri’s complaints before they even begin, “and I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Yuri’s heart lurches in his chest, so suddenly and with such great force that he feels sick with the unexpectedness of it. He swallows through the sensation, forcing his voice to remain level when he asks, “Is that what you think?”

JJ leans down for another kiss — so much softer than before, yet still somehow overflowing with passion. His breath fans across Yuri’s lips as he says, in a strong and steady voice, “It’s what I know.”

It’s just more bullshit, another heaping pile on top of the mountain JJ’s amassed with his teasing and his sweet words and his indulgent behavior. There’s no sense in it; he can’t possibly mean what he says. Not the first part anyway — Yuri doesn’t have any doubts about the second part, given how permissive JJ has been already. It can’t be true, in any case. Or perhaps it’s simply that Yuri doesn’t _want_ it to be true. He isn’t prepared for it. He wasn’t prepared for this relationship as it is. The thought of it evolving in such a profound way unnerves him even more than the thought of them having a baby together.

Yuri’s heart pounds, its rhythm uncomfortably fast against his ribs. He keeps his breathing slow and even, though his mind spins from an abrupt loss of air. Maintaining a straight face takes a considerable amount of effort when his eyes threaten to widen and the set of his mouth weakens. Yuri clenches his jaw, gnashing his teeth together to prevent any of the surprise or discomfort from bleeding through.

He would snap back defiantly, or counter with a snide “And _you_ won’t fall in love with _me_?”, but he forces the impulse down, made cautious by the intent way that JJ stares at him. What if he tries to salvage the moment with sarcasm or humor, and JJ says something even more disturbing?

Even denial seems dangerous in that moment, so Yuri chooses not to respond at all. Instead, Yuri kisses him. Lips press and tongues explore —  a distraction for Yuri as much as it is for JJ.

JJ makes no move to stop him, nor does he push the subject further. He moans and grinds against Yuri’s palm when Yuri drops a hand to the bulge in his trousers. JJ issues no complaints when Yuri fumbles with his fly and pushes the last of his clothing down his hips. Rather, he’s quick to help, kicking off his pants and underwear before allowing himself to be guided onto his back.

Yuri drags his mouth down tan skin, over hard muscle and black ink, touching JJ with greedy fingers as he follows a path down to JJ’s cock. He takes it into his mouth not with practiced ease, but with enthusiasm, reveling in the groans and pleasured sighs that spill from JJ’s lips, and the large, firm hands that wind into his hair. It’s Yuri’s turn to torment JJ, and he does so gladly, pulling off to tease JJ with lazy strokes while he marks up JJ’s thighs.

“I deserve this,” JJ wheezes.

It’s unclear if he’s pleased by this turn of events or if he’s regretting the near half hour of torture he put Yuri through. Either seems likely. Yuri wouldn’t put it passed JJ to think he’s being worshipped instead of tortured. The arrogant prick probably _does_ think this is some kind of reward. When JJ strokes Yuri’s hair and holds it out of his face with reverence, Yuri almost snorts. He’s certainly never rolled his eyes with his mouth full of cock before, but he’s experienced enough firsts with JJ already that doing so now doesn’t seem too out of the ordinary.

When the low groans deepen and JJ’s hips thrust forward wildly, as if JJ can barely hold himself back from fucking Yuri’s mouth, Yuri pulls off with a wet pop and scrambles up to straddle him. JJ moves like he intends to flip them over, but Yuri distracts him with a hungry kiss before shoving him back down. Bracing himself against JJ’s chest, Yuri sinks onto his cock. He doesn’t pause once he’s fully seated. There’s none of the soft, shallow rocking from their last morning in Colorado Springs. Instead, Yuri starts up a steady rhythm of hard, purposeful thrusts.

“Shit… _Baby_ …”

“You can shut up now,” Yuri grounds out.

Of course JJ doesn’t. Yuri never expected him to. At least the bullshit seems to have come to an end. JJ gasps and moans and murmurs his lustful supplications, hands gripping hard at Yuri’s hips while he watches, awestruck, as Yuri rides him.

There’s something in that look on JJ’s face — something heartfelt and unguarded. It sets Yuri’s heart racing again, in a way even the brisk pace of his thrusts could not accomplish. Unnerved, Yuri squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see it, so he can focus instead on JJ’s scent surrounding him, and the fullness of JJ’s cock inside of him.

The swelling of JJ’s knot is all the warning Yuri needs to know that their coupling won’t last long this time. He grasps his own cock and strokes hurriedly, pulling in large gulps of air as his second orgasm surges forth before he’s fully prepared for it.

JJ comes with a stuttered groan, hips bucking twice more, then halting as they’re locked together. Yuri gasps and grinds down as wave after wave of intense pleasure washes over him. It elicits a startled cry he barely manages to choke off. It’s too much, or not enough, or perfect, or all three at once. He tenses and arches so far back he almost unbalances, but a pair of warm, steady hands catch him and pull him forward. Then there’s a slick tongue in his mouth, stealing the rest of the air from his lungs, and careful fingers pushing curtains of sweaty hair out of his face.

Lost to everything but the heat rolling through him, Yuri keeps grinding. It’s greed, and bliss, and agony — overwhelming, but gloriously so, and he chases the feeling until he can’t stand it anymore. Yuri can’t hear his own voice, yet he knows innately that he’s moaning through it all, helpless and trembling with the aftershocks that rise higher and higher until they peak. Then he really is falling, going limp and boneless as his body gives out, his vision white and blinding before it seems to go black.

Seconds, or minutes, or hours later, Yuri comes to with his back against the mattress, blinking his eyes open to see JJ above him. JJ kisses him slowly, over and over again, soft and then hard, and then soft again. Yuri summons what energy he has to kiss back, gently biting at JJ’s bottom lip, one sluggish hand coming up to cup JJ’s neck.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” JJ breathes against his mouth.

They rest like that, sharing the same air, close enough to continue kissing between their efforts to calm the swift drumming of their hearts. Their noses brush against each other, nuzzling. Yuri can’t determine who does it first. It must not matter, because they both respond.

And if anything passes between them then, an implicit agreement or silent understanding, neither of them say a word about it.

It takes quite a while for Yuri’s brain to reconnect with the rest of his body. Even when JJ pulls out, Yuri spends at least twenty minutes in a daze. He should be humiliated to have been so affected, but he’s too worn down to sustain the embarrassment. JJ settles down beside him and pulls Yuri into his arms. Yuri curls against him, closing his eyes while JJ kisses his hair and strokes a hand along his back.

Neither of them fall asleep right away. JJ doesn’t seem to need much sleep to begin with, and though Yuri can’t claim to share the habit, he’s not yet ready for the night to end.

JJ turns the television on at some point, perhaps sensing Yuri’s stubborn hold on consciousness.

“Go to sleep, sweetpea,” he murmurs against Yuri’s hairline.

Yuri shakes his head and mumbles, “Shut up.”

He drifts in and out for a while, slipping close to slumber before drawing back again. JJ chuckles and runs a soothing hand down Yuri’s side every time he jerks awake. Eventually, Yuri forces his eyes to remain open by staring at the television, though he barely registers anything about the documentary JJ put on.

JJ doesn’t even give it his full attention. He splits his time between the television, kissing and cuddling Yuri, and messing around on his phone. It’s common enough that Yuri isn’t put off by the behavior. Between his band, JJ Style, and his competitive career, JJ is frequently multitasking — answering texts, composing emails, and making phone calls, usually about topics and issues Yuri doesn’t totally understand, given that he has little to no knowledge about the inner workings of the music industry, and his only experiences with the fashion industry have been the print and television ads he’s participated in throughout his career.

Lilia coordinates all of that, though. Yuri just shows his face and does what he’s told. JJ seems to know what he’s doing, at least. But then he’s had his own athletic wear line since he was young, and his band has had notable success for almost a decade. He’s had time to learn the ins and outs of each industry, and enough interest in both that he’s been motivated to do so.

Yuri’s nuzzling into JJ’s shoulder when JJ’s phone screen slips into his line of sight.

“I need to know what prompted this,” JJ says.

Blinking through a cloud of fatigue, Yuri peers at the screen and sees an image of himself from almost two years ago, at some fundraising event Lilia forced him to attend with her.

“Why are you even looking at that?” he grumbles.

“It came up while I was looking through some of our fan accounts.”

“ _Fuck_.” Yuri sneers and pushes the phone away. “Get rid of it. I almost cut all of my hair off after that.”

“What? Why?”

“I had _bangs_ , JJ. _Bangs_. And they were horrific. Worse than that stupid fucking bowl cut Yakov made me get my first year in Juniors.”

JJ chuckles quietly, lips pressed to Yuri’s forehead. “I thought it was cute.”

“Which one? The bowl cut or the bangs?”

“Both, but I meant the bangs.” There’s another press of lips, slightly chapped, but no less comforting for it. “They made you look so soft and sweet.”

Yuri tips his head to glare up at JJ. “I am neither of those things.”

JJ kisses the tip of his nose. “You are, though.”

With an irritable exhale, Yuri rolls his eyes. He retaliates by pinching one of JJ’s nipples — not so hard that it hurts, but enough that JJ flinches and laughs with more caution than usual.

JJ takes Yuri’s hand, lifting it to his mouth to kiss the tattoo on Yuri’s wrist. “Why did you get them if you hated them so much?”

“Because I was a dumb fuck and listened to Sara when she said, ‘but you’d look sooooooo gooooood,’” Yuri fusses, letting his voice go high in an admittedly poor imitation of Sara. “Never go to Sara for hair styling advice. There’s a reason she’s had the same style her entire life, and that reason is that she has no taste.”

Gentle fingers run through Yuri’s hair, pushing back the shorter layers that frame his face, before sliding through the longer ones that fall over his shoulder blades.

Like most of the more tender parts of their relationship, Yuri won’t admit that he enjoys having JJ stroke his hair.

JJ tucks a stray lock behind Yuri’s ear. He smoothes out the tangles as well as he can without a brush, combing carefully through each knot until it loosens. He fiddles with the tips, using a section to tickle at Yuri’s arm until Yuri threatens his nipple again.

Yuri drops his cheek back onto JJ’s shoulder, eyes going half-lidded. Idly, he skims the tips of his fingers over the tattoos on JJ’s chest. There’s a verse on the opposite pec that Yuri’s suspects is a poem, though he’s neither asked nor looked it up to make sure. He traces the looping script, then turns his nose toward JJ’s neck when his scent warms with contentment.

“Should we post something?” Yuri asks.

JJ’s hand drifts from Yuri’s hair to cup Yuri’s shoulder, moving his thumb in slow circles. “What do you mean?”

“Online,” Yuri explains. “About us.”

“Do you want to?”

JJ doesn’t seem surprised, but there’s a note of caution in his voice that Yuri can’t miss. At first, Yuri thinks JJ might be having second thoughts — not about their relationship, but perhaps about broadcasting it so soon after going public about the divorce. That assumption dissolves quickly when Yuri focuses on the subtle change in JJ’s scent.

There’s concern there more than hesitance or apprehension. And Yuri realizes, with some amazement, that JJ is concerned for him.

Yuri restrains a snort, limiting it to a short breath of air through his nose. “You said there’s not much point in hiding anymore.”

There isn’t. Not with the rumors that have been circulating deep beneath the mourning for JJ’s marriage. Not with the speculation that has been swirling as proof of their kiss at the airport makes its rounds online. Certainly not with all the pictures their fans have taken since. And the paparazzi. Yuri is no stranger to media attention, but the extent of it is new. JJ is, after all, a different sort of celebrity. That they’re on his home turf doesn’t help matters in the least.

JJ’s arm tightens around him, then relaxes. Yuri tilts his head to look at him, but the angle is hardly comfortable, so he rises up to be eye level. There’s a tiny frown on JJ’s face. Yuri moves in to kiss it off, the press of their mouths soft, with only the barest trace of tongue. JJ must sense the “I want to” beneath the action, because Yuri feels a slow smile curving against his lips.

“So post something.”

Yuri claims one last kiss before searching for his phone. It’s not anywhere on the bed, nor is it on the side table, so he climbs over JJ and leans over the side of the mattress to grab his winter coat from the floor, digging through the pockets until he finds what he’s looking for. JJ takes the opportunity to grope his ass. Yuri tries to retaliate by slapping JJ’s hand away, but he nearly topples over as a result and has to rely on JJ to drag him upright again.

JJ snickers and nips at Yuri’s shoulder. Yuri pushes his face away, then settles back onto the bed to begin looking for an appropriate picture.

His first instinct is, of course, to post a picture of the two of them together. They’ve taken enough selfies over the last few days that he has plenty at his disposal, but when Yuri looks at them closely, he doesn’t feel like sharing any of them. Though little more than a smirk has made an appearance on his face so far, his eyes don’t hide anything.

He looks happy. _Too_ happy, perhaps — bright eyed and lively in a way few people ever see him.

Yuri saves those pictures for himself and finds one he took of JJ that morning, holding Melody to his chest while he fed her a bottle.

He’s barely hit post before JJ’s arms wind around him again, stealing another kiss as he rolls on top of him, pressing Yuri’s back to the bed.

“It’s almost midnight,” Yuri complains, even as he bares his neck for JJ’s mouth.

“So?”

“Your short program is tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine.” JJ nips at him, then works another bruise into Yuri’s pale skin.

Yuri has a mind to issue several more complaints, but the effort dies before it even begins. JJ sucks on a particularly sensitive spot beneath Yuri’s ear, which earns a weak moan. When JJ grinds his half hard cock against him, Yuri admits defeat.

It’s been two months, they’re alone, and — though the day is almost done — it is, supposedly, a special occasion.

Yuri dips his tongue into JJ’s mouth. His legs fall open, and his phone drops from his hand, lost somewhere in the tangle of sheets as his attention quickly veers to something far more important.

* * *

[A picture of JJ sitting up in bed, reclining against the pillows as he holds Melody in one arm, feeding her a bottle as morning sunlight spills through the window.]

**119,273 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** I’m here to belatedly wish you all a happy singles awareness day. To celebrate, I would like to make you aware that I am no longer single. PS my boyfriend is even more famous than I am. Let the gold digger insults begin. #4C2023 #toronto #instagramofficial

 **phichit+chu** I. AM. SO. EXCITED!!!!!!! BRB GUSHING ALL OVER SOCIAL MEDIA!!!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu Contain yourself  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky NEVER!!!!!  
**_emil_nekola_** Congrats! I know you guys will be good together!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola_ That remains to be seen  
**mickey-crispino** This is the weirdest thing to happen in years  
**mila-babicheva** @mickey-crispino You can’t pretend you didn’t see this coming  
**sara-crispino** @mickey-crispino @mila-babicheva Didn’t you say they should’ve gotten it over with and fucked the tension out back during Yuri’s first year in seniors?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mickey-crispino @mila-babicheva @sara-crispino I was fifteen  
**mickey-crispino** @mila-babicheva @sara-crispino @yuri_plisetsky And I was drunk when I said that  
**lilia_baranovskaya** It is a comfort to know that you are happy  
**yuri_plisetsky** @lilia_baranovskaya Thanks mama :P  
**v-nikiforov** Such a sappy kitten  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-nikiforov I will end you  
**sukeota3sisters**!!!!!!!!!!!!! 8D 8D 8D !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @sukeota3sisters Sucks to be you guys not getting the honor of dropping the news this time  
**v-orlov** @Jjleroy!15 Fuck Yuri good. He’s awful company when he’s pent up  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov How many times do I have to threaten to block you before you knock this shit off?  
**v-orlov** @yuri_plisetsky You haven’t blocked me yet so there has to be a part of you that enjoys the chance to hate on me  
**leeseunggil** Wow  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Such masterful articulation  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky I am shocked  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Is that sarcasm?  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky Yes  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Ok homewrecker  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky It seems we have that in common  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Sure let’s pretend that’s true. But who’s the biggest homewrecker between the two of us?  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky Me  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Are you really that proud of yourself?  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky Always  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic again or not  
**leeseunggil** @yuri_plisetsky Good  
**yuri_plisetsky** @leeseunggil Bitch ass ho

FEBRUARY 14

* * *

Utterly exhausted, Yuri has to force himself out of bed on Wednesday morning.

He’s an early riser by necessity more than by preference; if he had no reason to get out of bed at a scheduled time each day, he would dream the day away as often as possible. Especially with JJ so warm beside him, Yuri has a difficult time pulling himself out of a doze. He only manages it when JJ’s “good morning” kisses lead to an even more enthusiastic “good morning” from JJ’s cock.

They fuck twice before finally leaving the room — once there in the bed, and once in the shower after. Neither instance does anything to improve Yuri’s plummeting energy levels, but it feels so fucking _good_ he can’t find any reason to complain.

Yuri sits at breakfast that morning, visibly tired, a bit dazed, and _sore_.

Fuck, when was the last time he felt so sore after sex? Yuri can’t determine why he should now. Is it JJ’s size, or the infrequency of their encounters up until this week? Both? Probably both. Either way, it leaves Yuri wondering if he’ll lose this pleasant, vigorously fucked out and thoroughly used sensation one day, over time or with prolonged contact. It would be a shame if he did. The fatigue he could live without, but he rather likes the rest of it.

They’re reunited with Melody at the hotel restaurant. She nearly topples right out of Nathalie’s arms in her haste to reach for JJ as soon as she sees him. JJ hugs her tight and rains kisses all over her smiling face, fingers dancing against her side while he mouths at her chubby cheeks until she’s giggling freely. If he didn’t feel so drained, Yuri might bemoan the fact that she doesn’t greet _him_ with the same level of enthusiasm, but his weary brain reminds him that he’s still a much less familiar figure. Instead, he delights in the opportunity to sit down and half collapse against the table, elbow on the surface while he cradles the side of his face in his hand.

With Nathalie and Alain, JJ’s brother Charlie, and Maddie Tremblay joining them, they settle down to eat. JJ keeps Melody in his lap instead of depositing her into a highchair, unwilling to let her go after a night apart. It means she spends most of the meal trying to grab his food. JJ distracts her with tiny pieces of banana, and a few tastes of raspberry jam from his pinkie.

Yuri sits quietly and watches, listlessly spooning fruit and oatmeal into his mouth, and ignoring the uncharacteristically sly look Maddie shoots him from across the table.

The peace is broken when a voice, as loud as only a Leroy can be, exclaims, “GUESS WHO’S GETTING MARRIED!”

Sophie bounds up to the table, flaunting the ring that now adorns her left hand.

There’s quite a bit of commotion after that. Nathalie gasps. Maddie squeals in delight. JJ whoops loudly and jumps from his chair, holding Melody with one arm while the other loops around Sophie in a fierce hug. Alain and Charlie are quieter but still obviously pleased by this turn of events. Sophie’s boyfriend — or fiancé now, apparently — saunters over with an amused smile on his face. Even if Sophie didn’t talk about him often, Yuri would know him as a fellow Olympian.

Logan Harris, a pleasant looking alpha with shaggy brown hair and kind, hazel eyes. He’s not as tall or as broad as JJ, but still of an average height and build. With Yuri’s social circle being comprised almost entirely of current and former figure skaters, he can’t claim to know Logan well. Sophie holds the distinction of being one of the few skaters who hasn’t paired off with an athlete of her own sport, so Yuri’s familiarity with Logan comes more from the information he’s gleaned from JJ, Sophie, a gossiping Mila, and the few occasions they’ve encountered one another at events. Logan is a snowboarder, which Yuri’s figures is pretty cool, with two Olympic medals to his name between Pyeongchang and Beijing, and he hails not from Canada, but from Great Britain.

Yuri frowns as the Leroys celebrate, moodily stirring his spoon through his oatmeal.

“What’s with you?” Sophie asks, once her parents and her brothers and her future sister-in-law have had their fill congratulating her.

“Nothing,” Yuri says.

“Oh my God, what are you being bitchy about now?”

“ _Sophie_ ,” Alain reprimands her.

Yuri glares and takes another peek at her ring. The center stone is cut in a teardrop shape, and deep blue in color — a sapphire would probably be a safe bet — haloed by tiny white diamonds, on a band of… Yuri can’t tell. Silver, maybe, though platinum seems more likely given the Leroys’ expensive tastes. Whatever it is, it suits Sophie well.

“Congratulations,” Yuri grumbles.

“Don’t sound too excited.”

Sophie grabs an unused chair from another table. She wedges it in between Yuri and her mother, plopping down with her usual disregard for Yuri’s personal space. Logan follows suit when JJ and Charlie shift their chairs aside to make room for him.

“Moping like a brat is not a good look for you,” Sophie says.

“I’m not moping,” Yuri argues.

He can sense JJ staring at him, watchful with concern. Yuri smells it as soon as JJ’s back in his seat. Not for the first time, he wishes he was better at regulating his own scent. There’s no way the rest of the table has missed it. Hell, even a few people seated nearby look in their direction; they could be stealing glances at Sophie and Logan, but when he’s feeling so sullen, Yuri can’t convince himself that’s all there is to it.

He shouldn’t even be so bothered by this. Sophie and Logan have nothing to do with him; their relationship bears no influence on his life, except that he’ll be forced to attend another wedding sometime soon — which isn’t his favorite thing to do, by any means, but between Chris, Georgi and Nadya, Viktor and Yuuri, Emil and Mickey, and Mila and Sara, he’s been to five of them now. He’ll have been to six, once Guang Hong and Leo finally decide on a date. That seems to be the price he has to pay for having friends at an age when everyone is beginning to settle down.

Sophie snorts and steals a strawberry from his oatmeal. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to be in my wedding party.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, then returns to his breakfast without another word.

There’s joyful chatter around the table for the duration of their meal, as Sophie regales them all with an enthusiastic account of Logan’s proposal.

“He didn’t even tell me he was coming,” she complains, feigning annoyance as she eyes her fiancé.

Yuri adds nothing to the conversation, choosing to force his food down instead. He can’t determine what’s more annoying, the fact that he has to listen to Sophie’s excitement when he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, or the fact that, while he and JJ were leaving dinner last night, Sophie was being proposed to elsewhere.

A foot nudges his beneath the table. Yuri doesn’t have to look to know that it’s JJ. The concern in his scent has diminished somewhat, though Yuri expects it’s less because JJ is no longer worried, and more because he’s trying to hide the fact that he is from those around the table. Yuri doesn’t look at him, but he does hook his ankle around JJ’s — not to offer reassurance, but to accept it. JJ’s hand takes Yuri’s, clasping it on the table top, thumb gently stroking until Yuri turns his hand to tangle their fingers together.

“We don’t want to wait long,” Sophie continues. “Maybe December or January. Between the Final and Nationals.”

“What about your honeymoon?” Nathalie asks.

“We’ll have plenty of time for a honeymoon at the end of next season,” Logan says.

Yuri’s grip tightens. Then he pulls his hand free, nudging JJ’s plate to signal for him to finish eating.

JJ rejoins the conversation, asking questions about the upcoming marriage and issuing a variety of teasing comments as he would if nothing was wrong.

Nothing _is_ wrong. Sure, Yuri might be sulking for one reason or another — he doesn’t particularly care to figure that out right now — but that doesn’t mean anything has gone awry. He’s exhausted is all. He can’t be held responsible for his actions when he barely has the strength to control them. All he needs is some time alone. And maybe a nap. Or a pillow to shove his face against to scream out his frustrations, which have no discernible cause, except that he hates weddings and he _really_ wishes people would stop getting married. It’s nauseating. Why does anyone feel the need to bother?

When their food has been consumed and JJ’s parents usher them away to begin preparations for the day ahead, Yuri makes a hasty retreat out of the restaurant. He takes Melody’s diaper bag from JJ simply to have something to hold onto. It’s styled like a backpack, so he’s able to hoist it onto his shoulders and grip onto the straps with both hands, squeezing tight during the awkward silence in the elevator. JJ can’t put his hand on Yuri’s back with the diaper bag in the way. He can’t hold Yuri’s hand either, and he seems to decide against trying to curl an arm around his shoulders.

As soon as they’re back in their room, Yuri drops the bag onto the chair by the desk. Then he turns to JJ, holding his arms out for Melody.

“I can take her,” he says. “You have to get ready.”

JJ meets him with a concerned frown. “I think maybe we should talk first.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Really?” One of JJ’s eyebrows arches skeptically.

Yuri rolls his eyes and holds his arms out with more persistence. JJ doesn’t seem inclined to relinquish his daughter, until she smiles and gurgles happily and leans toward Yuri on her own. Yuri takes her, making a show of stability and gentleness as he pulls her close. The upward slant his mouth takes isn’t completely forced, at least. Melody coos and grabs at his sloppily braided hair. Yuri doesn’t discourage her from putting it into her mouth, even if it means his hair will soon be soaked with drool.

Even after the exchange is made, JJ remains where he is. He stands and watches Yuri carefully, his scent thick with concern — and something else, too. Something sharp and cold. Something so unexpected, it takes Yuri a few moments to realize what it is.

Frustration.

Yuri pauses and glances up. JJ’s expression, when their eyes meet, gives nothing away. His features are rigidly set, but his eyes — those beautiful silver-blue eyes Yuri would willingly drown in if not for the last shreds of pride and denial keeping him afloat — stare with sadness and guilt mixed with disappointment. For what, Yuri has no idea. He doesn’t want to delve into it right now. He’s sore and drained and emotionally raw, and he just wants to get through the day without any more surprises.

“Look,” Yuri begins, putting a considerable amount of effort into keeping his voice even. “I’m just… tired. I don’t have the energy to think about this shit right now. I want to get ready. I want to go to the arena. I want to watch you skate. And then I want to come back here and not see anyone, or talk to anyone, or deal with anyone else’s bullshit.”

JJ’s throat works as he swallows. The tension around his mouth eases until the slope of his frown matches the look in his eyes. His scent doesn’t change, but the strength of it diminishes, like he’s trying to rein in it.

“Okay,” he says.

Relief floods through Yuri, relaxing the tension in his shoulders. He slumps just enough for JJ to notice, allowing himself a few moments of weakness before the steel returns to his spine. He recovers his dancer’s posture and turns his attention back to Melody, who soon drops his braid in favor of grabbing at the shorter layers of hair around his face, the ones that often slip loose no matter what he does to corral them back.

They don’t talk much that morning. By the strain in JJ’s bearing and the disciplined restraint in his scent, Yuri can tell he’d like to, but he seems to come to the decision to give Yuri as much space as he can. When they do speak, it’s to talk about Melody, or to discuss the upcoming short program. Neither of them sound angry or upset, but there is a stiffness to them, a distance that hasn’t existed since before the Final. It almost feels as if they’ve lost ground with one another, like they’ve defaulted to their behavior after Beijing — cordial, and avoidant on Yuri’s part.

It doesn’t bode well. Yuri hates it more than he’s willing to admit. JJ may be very skilled at disguising his emotions, but it doesn’t take much to realize that he’s troubled by this turn of events. Guilt twists at Yuri’s heart the more JJ’s scent grows less and less evident, because he knows it means JJ doesn’t want him sensing what he feels. They each have their own ways of closing themselves off, and suppressing his scent while pretending as if nothing’s wrong is quite obviously JJ’s prefered method of doing so.

When JJ shrugs into his team jacket and collects his things, then stops to kiss Melody on his way to the door, Yuri says, “Wait.”

JJ looks at him, face carefully neutral and scent almost completely undetectable.

Yuri sets Melody onto the floor with her toys before continuing. He forces all signs of hesitance and discomfort away, lifting his arms around JJ in an embrace that doesn’t succeed in bridging the distance entirely, but still serves as a balm.

He doesn’t know if this is right. He doesn’t know if he’s fucking things up by being obstinate, or if this time they’re taking will benefit them in any way. He doesn’t know what he’s doing or where he wants this to go or what needs to be done to keep their relationship running smoothly. The last three days have been so easy, he was beginning to believe that maybe he would be lucky this time. Maybe everything really had fallen into place and the doubts he still carried would soon be proven to be nothing more than a useless distraction.

Is he sabotaging himself now? Or has he been doing that all along? He’s opened himself up to JJ, but not as much as he should. Not as much as JJ has opened himself in turn. When Yuri takes the time to examine the state of their relationship, he can’t help but note that there’s something unsteady about it. There’s an imbalance, and he knows it stems from him, but he isn’t confident in his ability to resolve it. He’s never had a relationship like this before. He has no idea how they’re supposed to work.

All he knows are the ideals, those qualities people revere as the definition of a picture perfect relationship — empathy, maturity, a willingness to be vulnerable with one another, respect, honesty, equality, and affection.

None of which Yuri feels he has any talent for.

For a moment, he simply looks into JJ’s eyes, hoping JJ can see and smell the apology Yuri’s troubled mind won’t let him utter. He must be at least partly successful, because JJ’s scent warms just slightly, an arm comes around Yuri’s waist, and one of JJ’s hands rises to cradle Yuri’s face, thumb smoothing over Yuri’s cheek with his usual reverence.

Yuri leans in until their lips meet. He keeps the kiss chaste and tender, enough to show that he cares, that he wants to _try_ , that he’s nervous but, deep down, _hopeful_ that somehow, someway, they can accomplish something together that they never have before — with each other, or with anyone else.

When the kiss breaks, Yuri doesn’t pull away. He stands close and lets JJ’s forehead rest against his own. Quietly, they breathe together, enjoying the chance to be in one another’s space.

“Kick some ass,” Yuri says.

JJ chuckles and brushes a lock of blond hair out of Yuri’s face. He pecks Yuri’s mouth, the tip of his nose, the furrow between his eyes. Then he tips Yuri’s head just so and murmurs against his hairline, “Today’s for you, sweetpea.”

He leaves before Yuri, heading to the arena with his parents to start his pre-competition routine.

Restless with him gone, Yuri distracts himself by pouring everything he has into Melody. He plays with her on the floor, shaking toys for her amusement and tickling her until she giggles unrestrainedly. He props her up in his lap and starts up the hand games again, determined to get her clapping on her own before they part ways. He copies her babbling, every “ah~ah” and “ooo~ooo,” then holds her up securely with his hands under her arms, letting her bounce on her feet, up and down until she’s worn out and ready for her morning nap.

He naps with her, curled up in bed on his side, with an arm around her and a mountain of pillows on the opposite side to prevent her from rolling too close to the edge.

The peacefulness and the seclusion help. By the time they wake again, Yuri’s mood has improved enough that he no longer feels as if he’s on the verge of splitting down the middle. He feeds Melody lunch — a jar labeled “chicken and brown rice” that doesn’t look appetizing in the least, followed by a jar of apples and apricots that, when Yuri braves a taste, actually isn’t all that bed.

They don’t make their way to the arena until it’s almost time for JJ’s group to head out onto the ice. Once Yuri has rummaged through the diaper bag to make sure it’s still fully stocked, he bundles Melody up against the cold and grabs an extra blanket just in case, then meets up with Guang Hong and Luna.

“What’s bothering you?” Guang Hong asks, when they’ve settled down in their seats, each of them with a baby in their lap.

Melody watches Luna with wide, inquisitive eyes. Occasionally, she tries to reach for her, but as Luna is only three months old and Melody has a tendency to be a little rough with her grabbing, Yuri gently pulls her away and takes her wrists to help her practice clapping again instead.

“Did you hear Sophie’s engaged?” he says.

“I saw it on Instagram earlier.”

Yuri dredges up every last ounce of willpower he has in order to control his expression. He’s taken enough cues from Lilia that he thinks he should be better at it than he is. The effort is wasted, because Guang Hong can surely smell the bitterness on him. Yuri stops trying as soon as he sees something glittering out of the corner of his eye.

Of _course_. On Guang Hong’s left hand is a small, square diamond on a platinum band, once worn by Leo’s maternal grandmother.

“You’re annoyed that she’s getting married?” Guang Hong says.

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Even though he can no longer conceal the frown on his face, Yuri fights through the irritation enough that he doesn’t glare. He keeps his eyes focused on the gleaming track of ice only moments ago resurfaced by the slow moving zamboni.

As he’s considered retirement, Yuri has often wondered what it would be like to assume the role of a spectator rather than a competitor.

During his days as a Junior skater — and before that, as a Novice and as a very young child — he watched the more experienced skaters with a critical eye. That hasn’t changed since rising to the Senior level. He watches his fellow competitors, whether that be at competitions, at home on the television, or through online video. As much as he tends to focus on himself, he isn’t ignorant to what other people are doing. He can’t be. There’s always a chance someone might come along to usurp his position, though, unless JJ gets his act together before Worlds, that seems unlikely to happen anytime soon.

But those sorts of observations always existed as another piece of his career — a necessity, and not always a satisfying one. When was the last time he sat in an audience and watched a competition for the sake of enjoyment? When was the last time he attended in support of someone else’s success, rather than concerning himself with his own?

“Are you jealous?” Guang Hong asks.

Yuri gives a start and turns a look of disgust on him. “Why the fuck would I be jealous?”

“Because she has something that you don’t.”

“Something I don’t _want_ ,” Yuri counters.

“Maybe,” Guang Hong allows. “But there is something you _do_ want, something that, by tradition—”

“I don’t give a shit about tradition.”

“—getting engaged puts Sophie one step closer to.”

Yuri scowls at Guang Hong, then drags his attention back to the rink below and scowls at the ice instead. His hold around Melody tightens by a fraction, but if she notices the changed, she doesn’t react. She clutches his hands and tries to pull one of his fingers into her mouth, which he allows until she gets too rough with her teeth, prompting him to dig through the diaper bag for her pacifier.

He hasn’t even talked to Guang Hong about wanting a baby. Sure, Guang Hong _knows_ , the same way Leo and Mickey and Emil _know_ , the same way his substitute family _knows_ every time they get a whiff of his scent around Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina. But only Deda and Lilia know how serious it’s become, and JJ… well, JJ knows half of it — more than Guang Hong, but less than he probably should.

 _Fuck_ , he so _obvious_ , Guang Hong was able to get a read on him before Yuri even realized what the problem was.

He _is_ jealous, in a way. Not because Sophie’s getting married — fuck that, honestly; he still has no desire to really consider that as a part of his future — but because Sophie is moving forward while he’s stuck fighting a battle between recklessness and restraint.

Yuri suspects Guang Hong might push the subject, but aside from a few impish glances, followed by a consoling one-armed hug, he says nothing more about it.

The next group takes to the ice shortly after. There’s a thundering cheer from the Canadian crowd when JJ steps out. Melody startles and clings to Yuri momentarily, her eyes going wide from all the noise. Yuri rubs her back to comfort her and stands with her to point out onto the ice.

“Do you see Papa?”

She seems to perk up, but peers in the wrong direction.

“There he is. Look, right there. It’s Papa.”

When she still doesn’t manage to spot him, Yuri encourages her to look at the screens instead. He holds his hand up high and snaps until he gets her attention, then points again when her eyes focus on it. Moments later, the camera switches to JJ.

Melody looks confused at first, then bounces in Yuri’s arms and smiles wide. Her arms flail out like she’s trying to reach, so he takes one of them and helps her wave.

“Say ‘hi, Papa,’” he says.

“Ah~ah~ah~ah!”

Yuri snorts and adjusts his hold on her so she doesn’t have to cran her neck so much. “Good enough.”

Being a normal spectator turns out to be less stressful, but also, surprisingly, no less gratifying. There’s something very compelling about sitting among the audience and participating in the revelry, though the extent of Yuri’s participation begins and ends with Melody. He manipulates her arms to wave and clap, and he keeps her entertained by bouncing her in his lap to the sound of the music. Every once in a while, he and Guang Hong lean close to mumble observations or critiques into each other’s ears, but for the most part, the entire event feels more celebratory than competitive.

JJ is the third skater of the group. He earns another resounding cheer as soon as he takes the ice. Again, when his name is announced, the crowd shouts and whistles and fills the stadium with the sound of their applause.

He’s always been popular in a way few other skaters are — including Yuri himself, even with the ridiculous fanclub that has followed him around since his Junior days. JJ has been a fan favorite for as long as he’s been competing internationally, among JJ Girls and non-JJ Girls alike, Canadians and others the world over.

Yuri would credit this to JJ’s fame outside of figure skating; the music and the fashion line tend to draw in more fans than one might normally expect to see. Yet even without that, JJ has the natural talent, the personality, and the charisma. He has the worth ethic and the good looks, too. He is, as they say, the complete package. Judges love him. Audiences love him. Sponsors love him. People outside of the figure skating community love him.

Not that long ago, the very thought would have pissed Yuri off. He knows why, now that he’s had years to study his feelings on the matter.

The tools JJ has at his disposal are an intimidating combination. There are certain areas in which Yuri has him beat — Yuri’s intensive training in classical ballet is apparent to anyone who watches him skate — but there’s a reason JJ consistently made the podium before his hiatus.

When he’s in top form, JJ’s jumps are phenomenal. With his size and weight, he needs to reach a good height if he wants to successfully clear his quads. He certainly manages to accomplish that. While JJ’s been widely known for his power, his stamina, and his daring, closer inspection will reveal the significant influence his parents’ ice dancing background has had on his choreography and his basic skating skills.

Then there’s the fact that JJ can can work a crowd like no one else, whether his programs are flamboyant and rowdy, deep and meaningful, or soft and romantic.

This season, his short program fits the latter category perfectly.

JJ has an enviable ability to pull the audience in. They feel involved in his journey. From the comfort of their seats, they experience the full range of his emotions on the ice. With this particular program, JJ has everyone falling in love with him. It’s _his_ voice that spills from the loudspeakers, low and sensuous as he croons out a popular jazz standard. His costume, fashioned into a crisp black tuxedo, brings to mind a romantic dance under the stars. He is the handsome, dashing alpha, capturing hearts everywhere he goes, and whispering sweet nothings to whatever insipid omega happens to fall under his spell.

There’s no small amount of wistful sighing among the section of the audience around Yuri. He detects a hint of longing in someone’s scent somewhere off to his left, but with the amount of people near him, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly who it’s originating from. Yuri rolls his eyes before sharing a look with Guang Hong, who seems to have picked up on it, too, if his restrained snickering is anything to go by.

But Guang Hong doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, pointedly, “I wonder why he picked this song.”

Yuri snorts and almost mutters something about JJ’s wife, but he pauses before the words form, because it’s been over a year since she and JJ split, so a syrupy love song doesn’t seem to make much sense. When Yuri turns his attention back to the ice, the song settles a bit further into his brain than he would like. 

 

 

> _Fill my heart with song, and let me sing forever more… You are all I long for, all I worship and adore…_

Not Isabella.

Not anymore.

What was it JJ said before he left the hotel room?

_“Today’s for you, sweetpea.”_

Someone more prone to sentimentality and romantic overtures might preen and blush. Yuri does neither of those things. His face pales and his blood goes cold. He swallows to wet his throat, which has unexpectedly gone dry.

Hidden beneath his clothing, JJ’s wedding ring suddenly feels like a very conspicuous weight around Yuri’s neck.

Unless JJ had this season’s programs planned out earlier in his hiatus, he would have begun putting them together last year, after he decided to make a comeback.

After _Beijing_.

Yuri clutches at Melody, petting her hair and pulling her soft scent into his lungs while he works to restrict his thoughts before they can spiral out of control.

This program is an exaggeration. It’s a performance piece, so JJ would want it to resonate with as many people as possible. Hence the choice of a recognizable song. It isn’t specific to their relationship, and it doesn’t have any deeper meaning than that JJ has moved on from his wife. If that, even. He could just as easily be playing a character, or pulling from the audience’s love for him to craft a story that might appeal to them. He’s good at that. He connects with them in a way Yuri doesn’t know how to replicate. Yuri can engage a crowd, but he doesn’t relate to them.

JJ lets them believe he’s skating and singing for them.

The performance earns him a season’s best. It isn’t a personal record, but a noticeable improvement from his Grand Prix appearances. JJ looks pleased on camera in the Kiss & Cry, slouching forward over his thighs for a moment before straightening to flash a grin and two “J”s at the audience — who cheer, if possible, even louder than before.

Out of everything, it’s that moment in the Kiss & Cry that has Yuri wishing he was down there. _Why_ that’s what finally dredges up those feelings is a question he would prefer not to look into too deeply, but it spurs him to consider how he might like to pass his hiatus.

Even if he’s not competing, even if he decides to have a baby next season, he couldn’t live without some type of role in the competitive process. It’s one of the few things he’s known, inside in out, for the vast majority of his life. As stressful as it can be, the traveling, the hotels, the arenas, and even the annoying crowds of fans are where he ultimately belongs — with JJ, and their friends, and the coaches whose names and faces he’s known since he was young.

The rest of the men’s short program passes with limited participation from Yuri. Melody fusses a short while after JJ’s skate, so he feeds her a bottle of formula, which seems to be the very thing she needs to start yawning and tiredly rubbing her face against his shoulder.

JJ’s score is enough to keep him in first place, shocking everyone and thrilling at least half of the figure skating community after the shaky performances he had over the first half of the season. Yuri leaves the arena satisfied, but conflicted, too, caught between the confusion that lingers from JJ’s program, and his developing thoughts about the future.

After returning to the hotel, Yuri parts ways with Guang Hong in favor of more peace and quiet with Melody. She’s fallen asleep, but instead of lowering her into the crib, Yuri settles down onto the bed with her again. Tempting as it might be, he doesn’t nap with her this time. He turns on the television, searches through the channels until he finds a movie that doesn’t seem too annoying, and proceeds to zone out for the next hour and a half until Melody wakes up.

It’s evening by the time JJ comes back. Yuri cuts off the nursery rhyme he was in the middle of and looks up as soon as he hears him at the door. JJ traipses in and drops his things near the foot of the bed, then climbs up to crowd into Yuri’s space.

Melody dives for him the way she did that morning. When JJ kisses her cheeks, she coos and presses an open mouth against JJ’s face, slobbering all over him as she kisses him back.

“I missed you, too, Princess,” JJ says.

He follows this with a kiss for Yuri, leaning into him heavily until Yuri topples over into the pillows, squashed with JJ and Melody on top of him.

Yuri stares into his eyes when the kiss breaks, searching their depths for something to explain the intention behind JJ’s short program, but he sees nothing more than JJ’s usual soft affection.

“Hey,” JJ greets him, then nips at the tip of his nose.

“You were better,” Yuri says — the closest thing to “I was impressed” that he can manage.

JJ smiles and pecks him on the lips again. “I’ve spent too long trapped inside my own head, distracted by everything between me and Bella.”

The implication that it’s no longer wearing him down as much is clear, though JJ doesn’t say it and Yuri doesn’t ask.

Melody squirms between them, spurring JJ to sit up and shower her with kisses again. Yuri rises, too, but reclines against the pillows to watch.

“Let’s get room service tonight,” he says.

“Sophie invited us out. You don’t want to go?”

Yuri frowns, then closes his eyes as he leans his head back. “Maybe tomorrow. You can go if you want.”

A hand takes hold of one of his bare feet, thumb running along the side the same way JJ often caresses the side of his wrist. “No, let’s stay in. We only have the rest of this week. I’d rather spend more time alone with you.”

JJ feeds Melody her dinner first — a jar of peas (gross), and a jar of pears and raspberries (delicious) — then showers while Yuri and Melody play with some of her toys.

Later, they eat in bed with another movie on the television. Yuri wolfs down his burger and fries and quickly makes his way through two glasses of wine, before slowing down to savor the crème brûlée he ordered for dessert. Lilia wouldn’t be pleased by most of his meal choices this week, but as Yuri has no intention of confessing the lapses to her, all he has to worry about is a guilty conscience.

Really, JJ is a _terrible_ influence on his normal diet.

When all of Yuri’s dishes have practically been licked clean, he relaxes with a third glass of wine. Once again, JJ refuses to part with Melody while he eats, which results in him taking longer to finish, as he has to keep distracting her with other things after pulling her away from his food.

Lacking any real interest in the movie, Yuri’s head rolls to the side, and he spends some time staring at JJ.

It’s probably a sappy thing to do, but he likes to think his resting bitch face reduces some of the latent sentimentality of it. He _knows_ JJ notices — there’s no way that arrogant bastard would miss it, even in his peripheral vision — but for once, he doesn’t turn to tease Yuri. He eats his dinner and tickles Melody, and he lets Yuri have some time to stare peacefully.

His hair is still damp from the shower. He’s bare chested, in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants. Yuri watches JJ’s muscles shift every time he moves. As long as Yuri’s known him, he’s been broad and powerfully built. Age has only improved on that. JJ’s taller than he was the first time they stood on the podium together. He’s put on more muscle, too. Yuri wishes he could say that doesn’t appeal to him in any way, but he’d be lying to himself, just as he’s lied to himself about nearly everything regarding his attraction and their relationship since the moment things began to change between them.

Lusting over a brawny alpha is such an infuriating, stereotypically vapid omega thing to do, yet here lies the Russian Punk, salivating over Jean-Jacques Leroy because of his bulging biceps and his thick thighs and his perfect abs.

Maybe he can blame it on the wine.

Tossing his head back, Yuri sighs deeply as he drags his eyes away to stare at the ceiling instead.

“What’s the matter, sweetpea?” JJ asks.

 _Ugh_ , that stupid pet name, and the gooey tenderness that always drips from JJ's voice when he says it.

Yuri frowns petulantly, but he’s had enough wine at this point that his tongue is starting to loosen. “Sophie’s my age.”

JJ doesn’t say anything in response, but Yuri can sense his confusion.

“Maddie’s only a year older,” Yuri continues. “They’re both engaged. Guang Hong got engaged _and_ knocked up at twenty-four. I’ll be twenty-three in two weeks.”

“First you want a baby and now you want to get married?”

“ _No_.” Yuri almost whacks him with his elbow, but JJ has Melody in his lap, and he actually sounds baffled instead of taunting.

“Then what?”

Yuri releases an aggravated huff toward the ceiling and admits, “Sometimes it feels like I’m lagging behind.”

JJ’s fork clinks against his plate as he sets it down. He stacks their empty dishes and moves them onto the side table. Then he settles back, facing Yuri. He sits cross-legged on the bed with a cooing Melody bouncing on one of his thighs as he holds her upright.

“There’s no rush, sweetpea,” he says.

Yuri scoffs. “Says the guy who got married when he was nineteen.”

Bitterness laces JJ’s answering chuckle. “And look how that turned out.”

Yuri would question why he’s so intent on rushing to have another baby then, but that isn’t the conversation he wants to have right now. At this point, he’s fairly certain bringing it up wouldn’t even change JJ’s mind.

“All of our friends are getting married and having kids,” Yuri says, “and I’m…”

“Chris and I are both divorced,” JJ reminds him.

“ _Divorcing_. There’s a difference. And both of you still have a kid already, so the fact that you won’t be married for much longer doesn’t count.”

“Emil and Mickey don’t have kids.”

“But they’ve talked about it.”

“Seung-gil isn’t married, and he doesn’t have kids,” JJ continues.

Yuri snorts a laugh, too amused to hide it. “Seung-gil’s a serial homewrecker. It’s only a matter of time before he gets himself knocked up with some married alpha’s brat and causes a scandal.”

JJ’s scent warms with amusement; he doesn’t contradict Yuri. “Phichit isn’t married and doesn’t have kids.”

“Phichit has a girlfriend.”

“And _you_ have a boyfriend.”

Yuri’s frown deepens, but he doesn’t argue the point.

“Ken isn’t married and doesn’t have kids,” JJ says.

“Okay, I get it. You can stop now,” Yuri snaps. It isn’t as hostile as usual, at least. If anything, he just sounds tired. “I’m wrong and I have no idea what the fuck I’m talking about and I’m a fucking idiot for being upset over nothing.”

“You’re not an idiot.”

“I’m whiney and impatient.”

“Then let’s do it,” JJ insists. “Let’s have a baby.”

Yuri closes his eyes and takes a calming breath, letting it out on a slow sigh. “You’re so fucking crazy.”

JJ doesn’t say anything to that. His scent goes a little sad, but his excitement and confidence aren’t lost beneath it. Yuri no longer hears the quiet sounds of Melody bouncing. There’s a clatter of plastic he thinks might be JJ reaching for her toy keys.

“Yura, I don’t know what else to say. I’ve told you I’m ready and willing. If you want this and you’re impatient to start, then let’s go for it and see what happens. You’ve already stressed out about it enough.”

Yuri groans, hating that JJ’s right. He’s spent the last two months avoiding the issue out of stress, then stressing out even more once he finally started to put more thought into it. He has to make a choice — either stick with what he knows to be safe, or dive right into the uncertainty.

“I’m impatient with myself for not being able to make up my mind,” he explains. He sits back up when his eyes flutter open, downing the rest of his wine before setting the glass aside. Cautiously, he glances at JJ and asks, “How can you be so sure this will work out?”

“I’m not,” JJ says, “but I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we put in our best effort.”

Why does he always look so earnest? Yuri can’t doubt him when he looks likes that. If Yuri’s sure of anything, he knows it won’t be JJ who fucks things up.

He looks into JJ’s eyes and tries to siphon off some of his confidence. It doesn’t quite work, but some of the cold apprehension in Yuri’s heart begins to thaw.

“It doesn’t seem like you to doubt yourself so much,” JJ quietly observes.

“This is different than skating,” Yuri says. “I know what I’m doing on the ice. I’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember. This is new, and… I know if I’m not careful, I’m going to fuck everything up.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s what I do.”

“Since when?”

Yuri shrugs. “I’m shit at talking about things.”

“You’re doing pretty good right now,” JJ says.

It isn’t as reassuring as JJ probably means it to be, if only because Yuri can’t make himself believe it. The comforting scent JJ emits is far more effective. Yuri relaxes just slightly as he draws it in.

When Yuri doesn’t respond, JJ continues. “Yura, this—what we’re doing now— _this_ is how it’s supposed to work. If you’re upset, we talk. If you’re angry, we talk. If you don’t know what to do, we talk. You tell me what’s wrong, and why it bothers you, and we work through it. If you or I don’t know the answer to something, we figure it out together.”

Yuri frowns down at the bedding. It all sounds very mature — and reasonable, though he doesn’t know how well he’ll manage to execute it. JJ probably knows what he’s talking about, after all the counseling he went through when his marriage failed. That JJ seems to have a better grasp on things than he does makes Yuri feel even more stupid and inexperienced than he already knows he is. Even if he can’t be blamed for it, guilt and embarrassment still turn his stomach in on itself.

He won’t ever be good at maintaining a partnership if he doesn’t learn how to work as a team, and he won’t ever learn how to work as a team if he doesn’t even give it a try.

“And if I do something wrong?” he asks.

“We find a way to make it right,” JJ says.

“What if you’re ever upset or angry because of me?”

“If I said I was, what would you do?”

Yuri considers his response carefully, growing quiet until he thinks he’s found the right answer. “I’d listen. And I’d try not to be defensive.” That’s probably easier said than done. Yuri glances back up at JJ, unable to put an end to the conflict raging inside of him. “But what if I fuck up? I’m not like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m mean and bitter and selfish.”

“You think I’ve never been selfish?”

The subsequent roll of Yuri’s eyes is half-hearted at best. “You’re too kind to be selfish.”

“Being kind doesn’t mean you can’t also be selfish,” JJ counters. “I was selfish with Bella. I focused more on myself than I did on her. Our marriage wasn’t about _us_ , it was about _me_. _My_ struggles. _My_ happiness. _My_ career. And when she couldn’t keep up anymore, when she wanted me to step away from everything, I was angry and resentful. I kept it to myself, but I still felt it. It chipped away at everything that wasn’t already broken between us, and even though I wanted to fight to keep things together at the end, by that point, there wasn’t really anything left to fight for.”

He says all of this with such ease, one might think the issue no longer troubles him, but Yuri can sense the guilt JJ has buried deep inside of him.

Yuri starts to argue, “If she’d just said something before—”

“She shouldn’t have had to,” JJ stops him. “I should’ve noticed. She was my wife. I loved her, but I wasn’t a good husband to her.”

The “I want to be better with you” goes unspoken. Yuri doesn’t need to hear the words to know that JJ means them.

“I still have no idea what to do,” Yuri says.

JJ shifts along the mattress. He settles beside Yuri by the pillows, holding Melody in his lap with one arm while he wraps the other around Yuri’s shoulders, pulling him against his side.

Yuri drops his head onto JJ’s bare shoulder. He turns his nose into JJ’s neck and breathes, drowning himself in the scent of JJ’s affection — and that bold confidence that’s been his trademark since the day he first set foot on the ice. Yuri sits there listlessly for a while, closing his eyes again as he presses his cheek to JJ’s warm skin. Then he throws an arm across JJ’s chest and turns his head to graze his lips against JJ’s shoulder.

“Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” he asks.

JJ chest shakes with laughter. He drops a kiss onto Yuri’s forehead and says, “I’ve known who you are for almost ten years, sweetpea. There’s nothing about you that’s going to scare me away.”

Ten years. Has it really been that long? It doesn’t always feel like it. They never spoke until their first competition together, but even before that, JJ was always there along the periphery. Without him, Yuri’s been lost.

He can admit that now — to himself, at least. He was lost. He’s _still_ lost, to a degree, wading through his confusion and his doubts, trying to find something that makes sense, something that will make him happy, a goal he can aim for with courage and conviction, something that will motivate him, that will help him continue to grow.

And if he needs JJ there to help him…

Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it?

Yuri holds onto that thought. He stores it in his heart, where that image of a blue eyed baby still lingers, and when he feels himself slipping back toward hesitation and disappointment, he shifts to nose at JJ’s jaw.

He’s one step closer to an answer.

What he’s unaware of at that moment is how few steps he has left to go.

* * *

[A picture of JJ standing on top of the podium at Four Continents, wrapped in the Canadian flag, and beaming as he displays his gold medal. On either side of him are a skater from China with silver, and Leo with bronze.]

**123,598 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** Thank you to my amazing family. Thank you to my incredible fans. Thank you to the one who’s challenged me the most, who’s pushed me to meet my limits and surpass them. @yuri_plisetsky this one’s for you. #4C2023 #gold #winner #blessed #jjstyle

 **phichit+chu** CONGRATULATIONS!!!!! YOU WERE AMAZING!!!!!  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu Thank you!  
**_emil_nekola_** Wooo!!! Congrats! Is it safe to say you’re back?  
**Jjleroy!15** @_emil_nekola_ I just might be (｡◕‿◕｡)  
**_emil_nekola_** @Jjleroy!15 ヘ( ^o^)ノ＼(^_^ )  
**otabekaltin** ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ  
**Jjleroy!15** @otabekaltin Hi Otabear  
**otabekaltin** @Jjleroy!15 It was good to see you looking confident again  
**Jjleroy!15** @otabekaltin Thanks bro  
**otabekaltin** @Jjleroy!15 Also this is your obligatory “don’t hurt Yuri” warning  
**yuri_plisetsky** @otabekaltin @Jjleroy!15 Is that supposed to be intimidating?  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky @otabekaltin It kind of is. I absolutely do not want to cross Bek.  
**otabekaltin** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky A wise decision  
**mila-babicheva** YOU LOOKED SO GOOD I’M SO PROUD  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Name your firstborn after me in honor of my win  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 How about no  
**yuri_plisetsky** I’m still going to kick your ass at Worlds  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Kinky. I look forward to it. ;D  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Gross. Shut the fuck up

FEBRUARY 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost: GO LOOK AT [THIS PIC](https://twitter.com/puppysicle_/status/1003464389163274240) OF YURI WITH BANGS THAT [PUPPYSICLE](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/pseuds/puppysicle) DREW FOR ME IT'S SO CUTE MY POOR GRUMPY BOY WAS SO ENRAGED BY THOSE BANGS.
> 
> Second: Comments and kudos will result in me offering you my tenth born child, which might be a better offer if I planned on having ten kids. Alas, two or three will probably be my limit. But seriously, drop me a line. I'm often inspired by what you guys write in comments.
> 
> Also feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/merrily-merrily) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MerryMerrily). Twitter's where all the action's at. I usually only post updates on Tumblr.


	6. Andante, Andante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being apart from JJ sucks. Yuri should be able to handle it better than he does, but he's a selfish prick and wants all of the attention. Fortunately, the World Championships are right around the corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we begin, I have more art to share with you all!
> 
> First, [this piece](https://twitter.com/puppysicle_/status/1004811200897486848) by [puppycicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puppysicle/pseuds/puppysicle)! Yuri’s shirt says “I like to think wine misses me too.” I can’t imagine he’ll be very enamored with maternity fashion overall, but he’ll end up with a lot of silly shirts like that!
> 
> Second, [this piece](http://heilariart.tumblr.com/post/174807611631/inspired-by-the-beautiful-fic-theres-really) by [Heilari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heilari/pseuds/Heilari)! You can definitely expect both JJ and Yuri to post a lot of baby bump pictures on social media. And of course JJ will take every opportunity to gush about his boyfriend!
> 
> When will we get to these points in the fic????? Only time will tell, my loves!
> 
> ALSO: Warning for brief discussion of background infidelity in this chapter.

"Take it easy with me, please.  
Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze.  
Take your time, make it slow.  
Andante, Andante,  
Just let the feeling grow.

Make your fingers soft and light.  
Let your body be the velvet of the night.  
Touch my soul, you know how.  
Andante, Andante,  
Go slowly with me now."

 

\- ["Andante, Andante" by ABBA](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qb8WJO9-TG8)

 

* * *

 

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home          [About ](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)        Cats          Personal          Yurochka
> 
>  
> 
> **When Mr. Wrong Becomes Mr. Right?**
> 
> POSTED 21 FEBRUARY 2023
> 
>  
> 
> I assume everyone has seen the news, but if you’ve been living under a rock this last week, here it is:
> 
> [A picture of Yuri and JJ kissing at the airport in Toronto.]
> 
> Credit goes to @sammmdelaney
> 
> [A picture of Yuri sitting in the stands during Four Continents, with Melody in his lap.]
> 
> Credit goes to @_dayumguuuurl
> 
> [Yuri’s 14 February Instagram post.]
> 
> Direct from @yuri_plisetsky’s Instagram.
> 
> Some people are surprised by this. Apparently, these people haven’t been paying any attention. There have been rumors going around since the Grand Prix Final, so I don’t know what everyone’s so shocked about. I assume anyone who didn’t see this coming is a JJ Girl living in denial.
> 
> No, seriously, they’re losing their shit. It’s kind of hilarious how they act so classy and mature in public, but then throw them onto the internet and they turn batshit insane.
> 
> And people say us Angels are bad?????
> 
> I mean, okay, sure, some of us go a little too far with the stalking (you know who you are, assholes), but I don’t see many of us telling Yurochka who he should and shouldn’t date.
> 
> Is it a little weird that he’s dating a guy he’s been rumored to dislike for years? — Yes.
> 
> Is it a little cringey that they were spotted being suspiciously cozy with one another before anyone even knew JJ and his wife are divorcing? — Okay, yeah, probably.
> 
> Is it normal to speculate that there might have been some major drama going on behind the scenes for a while now? — Sure, if that’s your thing.
> 
> Is it fair to start leaving hate on Yurochka’s social media because you can’t get over the fact that he’s dating your precious King JJ? — No.
> 
> Dear JJ Girls, stop blowing everything out of proportion. Get a fucking life.
> 
> Says me, the chick running a Yuri Plisetsky Appreciation Blog. (Only about 40% of it is me fangirling these days, though. Can I still call it an appreciation blog???)
> 
> So yeah. Now half of the JJ Girls are throwing a bitch fit about it, and half of them are pretending they’ve liked Yurochka all along. You guys need to chill the fuck out before you cause some drama in JJland.
> 
> You know exactly what your boy’s going to do if you keep up the insults and the harassment. He’s going to post about how JJ Style is all about love and unity and respect, and how he’s so disappointed that some of his fans are being so rude to his boyfriend and blah blah blah. Then you’re going to try professing your undying love for your King, only no one will believe you anymore because your douchebaggery has already been exposed. You’ll be stripped of your JJ Girl title by the half of you who might actually be decent human beings, and then you’ll just be even more sad and pathetic than you already are.
> 
> But it is kind of interesting to see the differences between the fans. You can tell which JJ Girls are more exclusively JJ-the-figure-skater fans, because they’re the ones causing all the trouble. The JJ-the-rockstar and JJ-the-fashion-designer fans seem way more chill.
> 
> (Which leads me to the question, how can you be a fan of one and not the other??? Shouldn’t you like the entire package???)
> 
> If any of you happen to find this blog in your quest for more information about JJ’s new sweetheart, look under the “Yurochka News” tag.
> 
> DON’T look under the “Jerk Jackass Loser” tag unless you want to read posts from teen me being an immature bitch.
> 
> I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.
> 
> Fuck off. We all have flaws. At least I’ve warmed up to him now.
> 
> I guess I have to make a new tag to mark the start of their relationship.
> 
>  
> 
> TAGGED: Yurochka News, Yurochka Rumors, Yurochka Drama, Opinions, Jerk Jackass Loser, Pliroy News

* * *

[Two pictures: The first shows a newborn baby, swaddled in a white blanket flecked with pastel flowers, whose head is covered by a pink cap. The second shows Mila sitting up in a hospital bed, with Sara perched on the edge beside her, an arm wrapped tight around Mila’s shoulders. They both have wide, joyful smiles on their faces. In Mila’s arms rests the newborn baby.]

**58,901 likes**

**mila-babicheva** @sara-crispino and I are so happy to introduce our little bundle of sunshine, Polina Crispino! She was born late last night, on 26 February 2023. She weighs 3.4kg and is 51cm long. She’s perfect and so much more than I could ever ask for! We’re both doing awesome and plan to be home later today! #babycrispicheva #happymama

 **v-nikiforov** AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @v-nikiforov AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!  
**georgipopo** @v-nikiforov @mila-babicheva AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @v-nikiforov @georgipopo AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!  
**v-nikiforov** @georgipopo @mila-babicheva AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!  
**katsuki-y** @georgipopo @mila-babicheva @v-nikiforov Are you guys ok???  
**yuri_plisetsky** Wow hag your sap is showing  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Where’s my facetime call?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva Why would I want to talk to you?  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky #mamayura  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva #mamahag  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky So rude  
**yuri_plisetksy** @mila-babicheva You couldn’t keep her in for just a few more days?  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Sorry no I think you jinxed me enough  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva You owe me a birthday present then  
**katsuki-y** So happy for you! I can’t wait to meet her!  
**mila-babicheva** @katsuki-y Drop by during Worlds!!!!  
**lilia_baranovskaya** Beautiful! Congratulations!  
**mila-babicheva** @lilia_baranovskaya Thank you!!!!!!  
**+guanghongji+** BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @+guanghongji+ Luna’s rolling in friendship options  
**Jjleroy!15** Congratulations!! Mel sends tons of slobbery kisses!  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 Pucker up hot stuff. I require a kiss from you too  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @mila-babicheva How about no  
**christophe-gc** Much love to you, Sara, and baby Polina!  
**mila-babicheva** @christophe-gc Kisses~!  
**phichit+chu** AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** @phichit+chu AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

FEBRUARY 27

* * *

 

> _Your period is scheduled to start today._

Yuri finds the notification on his phone during lunch on the fourth of March.

Newly twenty-three, and no less impatient after the milestone, he frowns and touches the notification to pull up the relevant app. He records his symptoms for the day — “Didn’t have sex” (unfortunately), “Mood swings” (nothing out of the ordinary there), “Chest tenderness” (ugh), “Headache” (double ugh), “Acne” (fuck it all), “Fatigue” (a nap would be nice), “Bloating” (sigh), and “Cravings” (pizza this time) — but he doesn’t hit “log period” yet, because as of this moment, there’s nothing to log.

He swipes the app window off of the screen when he’s done, prepared for the monthly misery to begin any second now. The rest of his lunch break is spent scrolling through social media while listening to a new mix Otabek sent him the night before.

If Yuri was glum prior to his trip to Toronto, he’s been even worse since returning. Lilia hasn’t commented on his mood again, choosing to level him with several exasperated frowns instead, but he’s been sullen enough these last two weeks that even Yakov has noticed the change in him.

“This is Vitya all over again,” Yakov grumbled under his breath during Yuri’s first week back.

Yuri still bristles when he thinks of it. Though he railed against it at the time, arguing heatedly that he is absolutely _nothing_ like that melodramatic moron, he has not been very successful in proving Yakov wrong.

Practice is as dull as it always seems to be these days. Lilia and Yakov have both been working him extra hard since coming to terms with his impending hiatus, determined to ensure that he ends the season with another gold medal at Worlds — perhaps his last for quite some time — but rather than filling Yuri with a sense of accomplishment, all the tougher practice manages to do is leave him more and more tired each night. He returns to his apartment every evening and immediately collapses into bed, counting down another day, more eager than ever for the season to end.

It’s been almost eight years since his Senior debut. He’s been going practically non-stop since then. After all this time, Yuri knows he deserves a break.

Even so, he should probably make more of an effort to appear less miserable as the last few weeks of the season drag on.

Following lunch that Saturday, Yakov says, “If you don’t snap out of it by the World Championships, you can kiss that gold medal goodbye.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and stalks off to find Lilia. Behind him, Yakov shouts, “If you let Leroy win, so help me—”

He has no intention of doing that, and he’s sure Yakov is aware of it, too. Yakov’s old and frustrated and doesn’t know how to express concern any better than Yuri does. Still, the comment chafes at Yuri’s nerves. He storms into one of the dance studios and spends the rest of the afternoon there, scaring everyone else off when they try to disturb him.

His mood has not improved by the time he gets home that evening. Yuri only remembers to feed Potya because she gets underfoot so much that he actually trips over her as he comes through the door. Once she’s satisfied, he stumbles into his room for a quick shower, then crawls into bed in a pair of warm sweats and JJ’s hoodie rather than bothering with dinner right away.

Among the benefits of a week with JJ was that, with the amount of time they spent curled up in bed together, the hoodie managed to absorb more of JJ’s scent. Unfortunately, it hasn’t lingered as long as before. Yuri can only smell the faintest traces of it now. He’ll have to wash the hoodie again soon, too. There’s a crusty spit up stain on one shoulder courtesy of Karina, and dried sour cream smeared along one sleeve thanks to Lidiya’s messy hands.

For a while, Yuri lies in bed and zones out. As much as he’d like to, he doesn’t take a nap; if he does, there’s a very good chance he won’t wake up until morning. He spends fifteen minutes floating between consciousness and sleep, before jerking back to reality to the sound of his stomach growling.

Yuri consoles himself that night by satisfying his craving for pizza. He refuses to feel guilty about it. The stricter diet he’s followed since Lilia entered his life has already been compromised by his time with JJ. One night of weakness over the span of the last two weeks won’t do much more harm.

Besides, Lilia _still_ doesn’t have to know.

He eats in bed, gently nudging Potya away from the takeout box every time she sniffs around for some cheese. After his second slice, Yuri opens his laptop and pulls up FaceTime to call JJ.

But JJ doesn’t pick up.

Yuri groans audibly and sends him a quick text.

Considering the call went unanswered, Yuri doesn’t expect such a prompt response.

Aggravated, Yuri huffs and scowls but can’t really argue without acting like a selfish asshole — which he _is_ , but as he’d like to make this relationship work as well as he can, he’s been _trying_ to be less selfish as of late, even if he’s still a bit of an asshole.

Though he successfully reins in the impulse to complain, Yuri’s fingers mash over the keys as he types a reply.

He eats a third slice of pizza while he waits. Then, when his phone screen doesn’t light up and no FaceTime call sounds from his computer by the time he’s done, he grabs a fourth slice and chews moodily.

As much as he’s tried to justify the break from his diet, it doesn’t sit well with him that night, sinking heavily into his stomach. When Yuri trudges into the kitchen to put the rest of it into the refrigerator, he grabs some yogurt for dessert in a half-hearted attempt to end the day with something healthy. A glass of wine sounds tempting after establishing the routine in Toronto, but he hasn’t taken the time to restock yet, so ends up making himself some tea instead.

Yuri’s last text goes unanswered for almost forty-five minutes. He’s back in bed with his tea beside him on the nightstand, trying to distract himself with a book titled _“Let’s Pretend I Know What I’m Doing.”_ It’s a bit of a lost cause when he can’t seem to focus for more than a few minutes at a time. He’s fuming and nearly ready to toss the book aside when his phone finally starts vibrating with a call.

It isn’t the video call he wanted, which only makes the aggravation worse.

“What are you doing?” he snaps when he picks up. Hostility threads through his voice. “Why aren’t you using FaceTime?”

JJ laughs quietly and says, “I’m in the car, sweetpea.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be busy,” Yuri complains.

“I told you yesterday.”

“But you didn’t say it was going to take this long.”

“I’m sorry.” JJ sounds so sweetly repentant, Yuri has a hard time holding onto his anger. “I didn’t know. It went a little longer than I expected. There was a lot to go over.”

Yuri collapses onto the mattress, limbs thrown out in a careless sprawl, except for the arm holding his phone to his ear. He doesn’t care that he sounds petulant when he grumbles, “You should have rescheduled. You know when I call.”

The next burst of laughter is less restrained. Yuri can’t decide whether to be annoyed by this, or relieved that JJ doesn’t seem put off by his bad mood.

“Have I spoiled you already?” JJ asks. He sounds a little smug at the thought.

“Is that what you want?” Yuri continues to grumble.

“Yeah, actually.”

Yuri sneers. “That’s so fucking dumb.”

“Then I guess I’ll stop,” JJ says airily.

With an impatient groan, Yuri brings his free hand to his forehead, rubbing with the heel of his palm. The headache he’s barely been able to fend off all day seems to be growing. Instead of responding to JJ’s teasing, Yuri rolls toward his nightstand to dig out a bottle of pain reliever, chasing down two pills with a deep swig of camomile tea.

The next time JJ speaks, his voice lowers with concern. “Is something wrong? You sound stressed.”

Yuri sets his mug down, sighs heavily, and flops back onto the bed. “I’m so fucking tired. If I didn’t plan on handing you your ass at Worlds, I’d drop out.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. That’s the point. I’ve been doing this for more than half my life. I’m exhausted. I’m ready for a break. I’ve been ready since Nationals.”

JJ falls silent for a few moments. When he speaks again, his voice has softened. “So you’re feeling overworked?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you told me that before?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. He grumbles again when he responds, “I thought it was obvious.”

JJ doesn’t reply.

Yuri’s mood tanks further. He would much rather be having this conversation over FaceTime, so he could judge JJ’s thoughts and feelings by the look in his eyes instead of trying to determine what these silences mean. Being able to decipher JJ’s scent would be the preferred method, of course, but Yuri can’t have that for two more weeks. Face-to-face over the computer is the best he can hope for.

Flatly, Yuri asks, “Is that a problem?”

“No,” JJ answers quickly, like he’s just realized he took too long to say anything. “No, I just… didn’t expect this.”

“Why the fuck is it such a surprise?”

“You’ve just always seemed so…” There’s a brief pause as JJ seems to struggle with an answer. “... committed. To an obsessive degree. You’re ten times as intense as any other athlete I’ve ever met. You’ve approached your career like you think it’s the only thing about you that’s worth anything.”

“Isn’t it?”

There’s a clear note of disbelief in JJ’s resulting laughter. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Babe, you’re worth more than a pair of skates, a mountain of medals, and a few world records.”

Yuri rolls onto one side, closing his eyes as he curls around Potya’s dozing form. He wouldn’t normally agree, but JJ’s voice is so warm and so heartfelt, Yuri’s chest and throat seem suddenly very tight.

This isn’t the first time someone has tried to cram a similar sentiment through the stubborn, gold-or-fail mindset he’s had since he was a child. Yakov and Lilia have impressed upon him, many times, that his place on or off the podium, and his spot within the world rankings, says nothing about his worth as an individual. Yuri voices agreement because it’s easier than trying to argue the point, and if he didn’t, there’s a very good chance his coaches would be far more concerned with his mental and emotional health than they already are.

But their insistence doesn’t make his heart stutter like JJ’s does.

There’s something more significant about hearing it from his strongest competitor — one who has arguably been better than him for most of their long rivalry. Yet Yuri knows, before he’s able to convince himself otherwise, that it has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with those mortifying _feelings_ he’s developed. He feels pride deep in his chest, and an appreciative fluttering in his stomach.

It feels different because _JJ_ is different.

And fuck it, but he can almost believe that what JJ says is true.

Rather than comment on it, Yuri says, “So, what? You think I shouldn’t be tired?”

“God, no,” JJ says, and he laughs again, like he thinks the question is ridiculous. “I think you _should_ be tired. You’ve been going all out for at least a decade. There’s just a part of me that assumed you’d never admit it. That you’d keep pushing yourself until you collapsed. Or you wouldn’t even notice how hard you’ve been working yourself until your body just… gave out.”

“I wouldn't do that.”

It’s a lie, of course. He would have, if there was nothing else he wanted out of life. He simply knows he shouldn’t admit to it.

“Are you gonna take some time off then?”

“Yeah,” Yuri says, quiet now with his eyes closed, and Potya’s warmth — and JJ’s voice — lulling him into a state of contentment. “I told Lilia I want to sit out next season.”

He shouldn’t have kept this from JJ for so long, not when there was ample opportunity to discuss it both before and during Four Continents. The only explanation Yuri can give is that he didn’t want his decision distracting JJ from the competition.

There’s another pause. Yuri can’t help but think there’s a bit of hopefulness in this one.

Slowly, JJ asks, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Yuri snorts. “It means I’m tired and I want the chance to rest before I get back to kicking your ass on a regular basis.”

“I think I’ve kicked your ass more than you’ve kicked mine.”

“I would’ve caught up if you’d come back right after your knee healed.”

“Maybe,” JJ allows. “I guess we’ll see what happens at Worlds.”

“Everyone knows the gold is mine.”

JJ laughs again and counters, “Yours to lose. I’m back in it now, sweetpea. Don’t get too comfortable.”

There’s a flash in Yuri’s mind then — an image of himself on the podium, standing in second rather than first, just as he did the first time he and JJ competed against one another. JJ’s smug grin annoyed the shit out of him then, but he thinks he might like to see it now, for old time’s sake if nothing else.

As much as Yuri intends to give his all in his quest for another World Championship win, he doesn’t think he’d be disappointed this time if JJ managed to pull off an upset.

If he has to lose to anyone, he’d rather it be JJ.

“Don’t make it easy for me then.”

With his eyes closed, it’s easier to pretend he isn’t smiling.

“I don’t plan on it,” JJ says.

That’s an odd thing, too — that they can banter back and forth like this, over something Yuri _never_ would have bantered about before. The years may have taught him the importance of the many friendships he’s gained as his career has developed, but teasing back and forth about who would win or lose was never a habit Yuri got into. His mindset wouldn’t allow it. He’s had too much at stake to joke about the gold.

Now, Yuri breathes deep and sighs through his nose. The sound is almost pleased.

He can hear the smile in JJ’s voice when JJ continues, “Why don’t you head to bed? You’re stressed and tired. You could use a good night’s sleep.”

“You just don’t want to talk to me,” Yuri feigns a complaint.

JJ snorts and teases, “I always want to talk to you. But I also want you well rested. I’ve seen what you’re like when you don’t get enough sleep.”

“What are _you_ going to do?”

“Have a quick lunch and head back to the rink.”

Yuri frowns and turns his face into a pillow to muffle another sigh.

As usual, he doesn’t want to hang up, unless hanging up means a video call instead. He wants to keep talking because talking to JJ calms him down, which wouldn’t have made any fucking sense just a year ago. It _still_ doesn’t really make much sense, but Yuri’s beyond trying to figure it out. He may as well just accept it. What does it matter how weird it is, when it makes him feel so warm and satisfied?

“We can talk longer tomorrow,” JJ offers.

“Dinner’s at Katsudon’s and Viktor’s tomorrow. I won’t be back until late,” Yuri says. Then, hastily, because he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity again, “But I can still call when I get home.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Sundays are slow here, so I’ll be free in the afternoon.”

Somehow, Yuri doubts it would matter. Even if JJ wasn’t free, the idiot would make time. Yuri shouldn’t agree to it because, if he gets in the habit of doing that, he won’t trust JJ not to start rearranging his daily schedules just to have more opportunities to talk. Yet he can’t help himself. He’s felt like shit for two weeks now. He wants to be selfish. He wants to take up as much of JJ’s time as possible. He wants to bridge the distance when he can, in the only way he can, until they’re able to see one another again at Worlds.

“Okay.”

“Good night, sweetpea,” JJ says, in that low, soft tone of voice that makes Yuri’s insides cartwheel out of control. “I miss you.”

Yuri forces another snort. “You’re so fucking gross.”

“The grossest,” JJ agrees. “But you’re dating me, so I don’t think you mind.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, I don’t date.”

JJ chuckles quietly. “Fine, you’re letting me romance you.”

Yuri fakes a gag. “You’re disgusting.”

“You like it.”

It would be an easy thing to deny. For once, Yuri isn’t in the mood to do that. Instead of snarking back, he says, “Good night, JJ.”

He doesn’t even include an insulting epithet.

“Sweet dreams, babe.”

Hanging up is as difficult as it always seems to be these days. Yuri stays on the line until JJ disconnects, which takes longer than it should, like JJ wants to savor those last few moments of comfortable silence. When the call finally does end, Yuri drops his phone onto the bed and rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling with tired, half-lidded eyes, until he finds the strength to force himself out of bed to brush his teeth and speed through the nightly skincare routine Lilia insists he follow.

Curling up in bed with only Potya for warmth is notably less satisfying than it used to be, but Yuri falls asleep quickly anyway.

He doesn’t wake up until ten the next morning.

* * *

[A selfie of Yuri taken before he’s showered and dressed. He looks exhausted, with bags under his eyes and several strands of hair slipping out of a messy bun. His free hand clutches a mug of tea.]

 **yuri_plisetsky** Tell me I don’t look like shit #badselfie

**65,208 likes**

**+guanghongji+** Shut up. You are physically incapable of looking like shit  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ :P  
**phichit+chu** @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky Guang Hong speaks truth  
**mila-babicheva** Are you hungover???  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva No f u  
**_emil_nekola_** You don’t look like shit  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola Finally someone who does exactly what they’re told  
**_emil_nekola_** @yuri_plisetsky I’m very good at that  
**yuri_plisetsky** @_emil_nekola_ I don’t even want to know if there’s some sort of subtle innuendo buried in there  
**mila-babicheva** @_emil_nekola_ @yuri_plisetsky Innuendo is beyond Emil’s capabilities  
**christophe-gc** @emil_nekola_ @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva But not beyond mine ;D  
**Jjleroy!15** You look as beautiful as ever  
**yuri_plisetsky** @JJleroy!15 You’re full of shit  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky No just full of admiration for you  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Gag  
**christophe-gc** Look at the ferocious ice tiger fishing for compliments  
**yuri_plisetsky** @christophe_gc Shut the f up and tell me I’m gorgeous  
**christophe-gc** @yuri_plisetsky Take care of those under eye bags and then we can talk  
**yuri_plisetsky** @christophe-gc F u

MARCH 5

* * *

The next day is worse, because by the end of it, Yuri’s bad mood has almost nothing to do with the fact that he feels tired and overworked.

He heads to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s apartment that evening, after spending his entire off day on the couch, splitting his time between boring programs on the television, a book titled _“So You Want to Have a Baby,”_ and no less than _two_ hour-long naps. As soon as Yuri arrives, he steals Karina from Yuuri, then sprawls out on the floor on his stomach while she does the same, getting some tummy time in before dinner. This would normally bring a smile to Yuri’s face, and it does as soon as Karina begins to fuss in frustration, but it doesn’t last. It vanishes entirely when Viktor takes Karina back to feed her.

Yuri escapes into the kitchen with Yuuri and takes to chopping vegetables, with a heavy heart and a stomach that bubbles with bitterness.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks from his spot in front of the stove.

“What?” Yuri says, snapping out of his lethargic daze.

“You’ve been quiet and unhappy lately.”

Only then does Yuri notice Yuuri’s scent — repressed as much as Yuuri is able, but apparent to anyone who knows him well. Yuri doesn’t often like to admit how well he actually _does_ know Yuuri. It’s been a long time since they met, of course; he’s had years to become acquainted with Yuuri’s behaviors.

There’s concern in Yuuri’s scent now, which isn’t uncommon in and of itself, but the depth of it toward Yuri is new.

“It’s nothing,” Yuri grumbles, unable to infuse his voice with much reassurance.

“Everything going okay with you and JJ?”

A short laugh works its way out of Yuri’s throat before he’s able to stop it. “I haven’t killed him yet.”

Yuuri laughs as well, his amusement light and easy. “I guess that’s good enough.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and puts more energy into his chopping. “It’s serious, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh,” Yuuri says. He pauses for a moment. Something like satisfaction wars with the concern in his scent. “Actually, that wasn’t what I meant, but… that’s good to hear.”

“How so?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yuri can see him shrug. He thinks there might be a smile on Yuuri’s face.

“You always seem to blossom when you’re with someone you really like.”

“I’m not a fucking flower.”

Yuuri laughs again. “You open up, though. You’re so serious and guarded most of the time, unless you’re with the kids. It’s good that you can be happy with other people, too. I’ll admit I was a little worried when you said you were dating JJ, just based on how the two of you used to snipe at each other, but… you were happy when you were with him in Toronto. And he treats you well. It’s nice to see.”

“Is this where you give me your blessing?”

“Do you _need_ my blessing?”

Yuri would like to say “no,” but there _is_ something heartening about his family and friends offering their support.

He decides not to answer, forcing another snort instead.

If Yuuri has anything else to say on the subject, it’s cut off by the chiming alert of a FaceTime call from his iPad. Yuuri rinses his hands quickly before turning toward the kitchen island.

“Oh,” he says. “It’s Phichit.”

He must accept the call, because the chiming stops and he issues a friendly greeting in Thai.

Phichit returns the greeting, then switches to English. Nervousness laces his voice. “Who’s there with you?”

“Vitya’s in the other room with Karina, so just Yura right now.”

Yuri glances over his shoulder as Yuuri turns the iPad so Phichit can see him at the counter. He doesn’t offer much of a greeting beyond, “Hey.” He does, however, deign to toss Phichit a brief wave.

“Hi,” Phichit says. The rest he rattles off with a speed that makes him seem mildly harassed, “You’re gorgeous. You and JJ look good together. Congrats again. I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Yuri mumbles sarcastically.

Phichit takes a deep breath, holds it for a few moments, then releases it in a heavy, audible gust. His entire body deflates as he does so, dropping back against the couch he’s seated on. He looks morose as he lifts his gaze to the ceiling. One of his hamsters crawls up onto his shoulder, but he gives it barely more than an absentminded pat.

“Are you okay?” Yuuri asks. At least the concern in his scent is directed toward Phichit now.

Curious in spite of himself, Yuri sets his knife down and leans back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he regards Phichit on the screen.

Phichit pops up immediately, but his straight posture lasts for five seconds at most before he’s slumping forward over his thighs, gripping onto his knees with tense hands.

“There’s something I have to tell you, but you both have to _swear_ not to tell anyone else.”

“Not even Vitya?”

“Well, yeah, okay, you can tell _him_.”

Yuri doesn’t bother to ask if he can tell JJ. He figures that’s implied. When Phichit looks at him, Yuri simply shrugs to demonstrate his agreement.

Phichit inhales deeply again. His exhale this time sounds more calming than the last. “Seung-gil’s pregnant.”

Yuri does everything he can to disguise his flinch, shifting in place in the hopes that neither Yuuri nor Phichit notice. There’s nothing he can do about the sour frown that creeps across his face, or the way his eyes narrow into slits. He swallows to wet his suddenly dry throat, dropping his gaze to the tile floor with the intention of staring grimly for as long as it takes to regain control of himself.

Yuuri’s scent goes sharp with surprise, before warming with pleasure. “Oh, wow! Really?”

“Yeah,” Phichit says. There’s a brief pause, then Phichit continues, his usually exuberant voice going small and hesitant, “... it’s mine.”

Silence descends between the three of them. Yuuri’s pleasure dies, replaced with confusion and a vague sense of horror. Yuri closes his eyes and takes a calming breath — slow, so neither of them hear him. Fortunately, they’re both too focused on the bombshell that was just dropped to notice that Yuri is nearly shaking with anger and frustration.

What the _fuck_ is he supposed to say to that?

“Phichit…” Yuuri begins, slow and hushed. “Phichit, you have a _girlfriend_.”

“I know!” Phichit exclaims. There’s a sound of skin slapping against skin. When Yuri takes a peek at the screen, Phichit has clamped his hands over his face. “I know! I’m freaking out right now!”

Judging by the anxious spike in Yuuri’s scent, he must be freaking out, too. “Phichit, _what did you do_?”

“I don’t know! We met up for some drinks one night when I was in Seoul last month, and I guess we were drunk and got a little carried away—”

“You _guess?_ ”

“—because we had, okay, no details or anything, but we had sex—”

“ _Phichit_ —”

“—and, you know, I felt like shit about it after and I’ve been freaking out for weeks because I _know_ I should tell Phailin, but I don’t know how to do it because it’s going to break her heart—”

“Well, what did you _expect_ —”

“—and now he’s _pregnant_ and I’m freaking out even more than before! I mean, what even are the chances?! We had sex _once_ and then he caught a ride home and I haven’t heard from him since!”

“Then how do you know he’s—”

“Because he called me earlier tonight out of nowhere and said ‘Just letting you know I’m pregnant’ in that flat, emotionless way he says everything!”

The longer Yuuri and Phichit go back and forth, with barely any space for breath in between, the more Yuri’s mood worsens. His temples throb. There’s a ringing in his ears, growing louder by the second — loud enough that it soon drowns out the sound of Yuuri’s and Phichit’s voices. Yuri has to swallow several more times to loosen the tight clench of his throat. His hands tense, fingers digging into his biceps through the fabric of his hoodie — not JJ’s, which rests on the top of Yuri’s pile of dirty laundry at home.

He would give _anything_ in that moment — standing there in Yuuri’s and Viktor’s kitchen while the world seems to close in on him — to have that hoodie, warm from JJ’s body, and thick with JJ’s scent.

It’s bad enough that Phichit — kind, sweet, _thoughtful_ Phichit — cheated on his girlfriend. It’s even worse that Seung-gil, one of the least maternal omegas Yuri’s ever met, is apparently pregnant with Phichit’s bastard spawn. Considering Seung-gil’s penchant for showering his drunken affections upon any unavailable alpha within arm’s reach, Yuri wouldn’t be surprised if the sex was purposeful. The baby, though… there’s no way Seung-gil meant for _that_ to happen.

When he thinks he might grow sick from the searing anger boiling through his veins, Yuri marches out of the kitchen to find Viktor in the sitting area.

“Give her to me,” Yuri barks at him, holding his arms out for Karina.

Viktor glances up from his place on the couch, Karina content in the cradle of his arms. His face creases — the only sign of his concern that Yuri can interpret at the moment, too overwhelmed by the strength of his own fury to pick up on Viktor’s scent. It isn’t the scent he _wants_ right now. Not even close.

“What’s going on?” Viktor says.

Yuri’s teeth grind before he snaps, “Get off of your fucking ass, give her to me, and go help your fucking husband finish dinner!”

For once, Viktor seems too wary to provoke Yuri. He doesn’t needle or pry, but stands slowly and transfers Karina into Yuri’s waiting arms, confident, at least, that Yuri will care for her properly even in his heightened emotional state.

As Viktor turns for the kitchen with a few more confused glances over his shoulder, Yuri takes his spot on the couch. He lays Karina along his thighs, letting her grasps his thumbs with her little hands while he stares at her through the haze of rage clouding his vision.

At just over three months, she’s still smaller than Pavel and Lidiya were at her age. She looks barely more than a month old at most. She’s gained weight, but hasn’t filled out much yet. Her limbs are still a bit spindly, and she doesn’t boast the chubby cheeks Melody’s had for months now. Karina looks like Yuuri, from her dark eyes and hair to the shape of her ears and the roundness of her chin, but her nose and mouth are Viktor’s. Her hair is sparse, thin strands of black and a hairline that brings Viktor’s forehead to mind.

She stares straight into Yuri’s eyes and shows him a gummy smile, cooing softly as she does so.

Yuri melts, just the way he knew he would.

He doesn’t listen in on the conversation that continues to take place in the kitchen, even when Viktor’s loud voice drifts through the doorway. Though the program Viktor has on the television doesn’t interest Yuri in the least, he turns the volume up to drown out the chatter. Rather than watching it, he focuses all of his attention on Karina. He tickles her, but she doesn’t laugh. He sings her a lullaby and watches her smile widen. When he grows dissatisfied with her position on his thighs, Yuri lifts her to his chest and buries his nose into her wispy hair.

He inhales her scent — faint and bland until puberty, but distinctly omega all the same. It settles into his lungs and loosens the tightness in his chest. Yuri breathes easier, and his pounding heart slows. The flames of anger recede just enough that he’s no longer at risk of exploding.

By the time the others arrive for dinner, the FaceTime call with Phichit has ended. Yuri doesn’t care to know the rest of it, but by the uncertainty in Yuuri’s scent, he assumes nothing was resolved. He spends his time showering attention upon Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina, ignoring most of the others unless they speak to him directly.

“You’re upset,” Lilia observes when they catch a private moment together.

“I’m not,” Yuri says, rubbing Karina’s back as she sleeps against his shoulder.

“If you’d like to talk—”

“I _don’t_.”

Lilia sighs and rubs at her temple with the tips of her fingers, but she must decide against making an issue out of it with everyone else in the vicinity. She keeps an eye on him for the rest of the night, and when Yuri leaves early, she meets him with a stern frown as she bids him farewell at the door.

Yuri drives home with music blasting in his ears, loud enough to drown out the warring voices in his head — one hot with rage, one sharp with jealousy, and one low and weak with mourning.

He stomps up the stairs to his apartment, slamming the door when he enters, then leaning against it with his eyes closed until he’s sure he has himself under to control. He stops long enough to feed Potya before dragging his feet on his way to the bedroom.

His shoes drop to the floor one by one. His winter coat is thrown toward a chair already overflowing with dirty clothes. He doesn’t change out of the jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie he pulled on after his shower that afternoon. Instead, he falls onto the bed fully clothed, lolling on his stomach with his face buried into a pillow.

Yuri remains motionless until Potya climbs onto his back. He turns gently and catches her in his arms, holding her to his chest while he makes himself comfortable on his side. He works his fingers through her fur until she’s purring loudly, licking at his hand during every pause to demand more of his affections.

His laptop is still on the bed where he left it last night. Opening the lid, Yuri logs in with one hand and immediately pulls up FaceTime.

“Hi, sweetpea,” JJ greets him when the call connects, eyes bright and smile wide. “You’re earlier than I thought you’d be.”

It’s afternoon in Montreal — and a beautiful day, if the sunlight streaming through the windows is any indication. Judging by the familiar chair JJ’s sitting on and the cabinets in the background, Yuri assumes JJ has made himself comfortable at the table near the kitchen.

“Where’s Melody?” Yuri asks when he doesn’t see or hear her.

“Upstairs taking a nap.”

Yuri sighs and turns his face into his upper arm.

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

He seems to be asking that a lot these days.

Months ago, Yuri would have said “nothing,” and not given it a second thought. Even now, when their ability to communicate with one another has steadily improved, he has the instinct to brush it off or deny that anything’s bothering him, change the subject or clam up and refuse to talk. It would be easier than having to discuss it. He might even be able to work through this bullshit on his own.

But he finds that he _wants_ to talk. He’s spent so much time complaining to JJ over the last three months, he can’t imagine taking this issue to anyone else — not even Otabek, who wouldn’t understand and who certainly wouldn’t sympathize with him.

“Do you remember when I said it was only a matter of time before Seung-gil finds a married alpha to knock him up?”

“Yeah?”

“I was wrong about the married part. But Seung-gil’s pregnant,” Yuri says. He’s almost surprised at himself. His voice sounds empty instead of biting.

Lying on his side with his face still pressed into his arm, Yuri can’t see JJ’s reaction, but he assumes from the moment of silence that JJ is suitably surprised by the news.

“You’re kidding,” he eventually responds.

“I wish I was.”

“Do you know who the father is?”

“Phichit.”

“Wait, _what_?” JJ’s eyes are wide with shock when Yuri glances up. “How did that even happen?”

“He was dumb enough to get drunk with Seung-gil,” Yuri says. As an afterthought, he adds, “Don’t tell anyone. It’s supposed to be a secret. I found out a few hours ago when Phichit called Katsudon.”

JJ laughs with vague amusement, but it only lasts for a few seconds, before he sighs and rubs at his jaw. “Well, that makes two surprise pregnancy announcements in one day.”

Yuri doesn’t even try to disguise his reaction as anything other than confusion. “What do you mean?”

“One of my brothers is pregnant.”

“ _What_?” Yuri says. It’s his turn to appear shocked. “Which one?”

“Gabriel.”

Though he makes an effort to mentally review all of the stories JJ’s shared about his family, and the pictures Yuri’s seen on social media and JJ’s phone, JJ has too many siblings for Yuri to remember all of their names and faces. He’s only ever spoken to Charlie and Sophie. He knows Alice in Juniors, too, but his encounters with her have been few and far between. There might be a set of twins in the mix somewhere, and he’s sure he’s seen a small, red haired girl as young as eight or nine.

“How old is he?” Yuri asks, rather than admitting he has no idea who JJ’s talking about.

JJ pauses, wincing as he stares at Yuri with some concern. “He just turned eighteen in December.”

“ _What_.”

Yuri’s voice doesn’t rise on a question. It dips low, seething. The rage he’s fought against all evening erupts again, the burning flames he managed to put a damper on surging even higher than before.

“Baby—”

“What the _FUCK_?!”

Yuri scrambles upright, scaring Potya enough that she darts out of the room. In his haste, Yuri’s legs get tangled in the sheets and blankets of his unmade bed. He kicks them away violently, then grabs the closest pillow and flings it away, nearly sending the lamp on his nightstand crashing to the floor in the process.

“Yura!”

He hurls himself out of bed, punting his shoes out of the way when he trips over them. JJ’s voice calls out again, shouting his name, but Yuri ignores it and strides away. He hurtles into the bathroom, where he slams the door, then locks it for no reason at all.

The ringing in his ears is back — louder and more piercing than before. His breathing grows ragged, tearing through an aching throat as his lungs constrict. Yuri leans over the sink, knuckles white as he grips tightly to the edge of the counter. Crushed beneath the weight of frustration and bitterness, he jabs his knee into the cabinet beneath. Once. Twice. When that brings him no satisfaction, Yuri pulls back and lands a series of hard kicks against it, over and over until his foot is sore from the abuse.

JJ’s voice sounds from the bedroom, louder now in the hopes of being heard over the distance. “Yura!”

Yuri doesn’t respond. He swipes his hair brush, face wash, and moisturizer off of the counter.

His teeth clench and his eyes squeeze shut. He’s shaking again. He has to brace his arms back on the counter to keep himself upright.

“Yura! _Yuri_!”

A shriek of rage bursts from Yuri’s throat as he smacks his palm against the mirror above the sink. He shoves his fingers into his hair after, whirling around to throw himself onto the toilet. It’s really very fortunate that he leaves the lid closed to keep Potya from drinking from the bowl, otherwise he might have fallen right in. He sits there with his face in his hands, short nails scraping painfully at his forehead.

The next time he hears JJ’s voice, it sounds a little panicky. “Baby, I don’t know what you want me to do!”

When he opens his eyes, Yuri is half blind with fury. His vision swims. He alternates between holding his breath and pulling in deep lungfuls of air as his throbbing heart pounds away, uncomfortably fast beneath his ribs. Stomach churning, Yuri swallows down the rising tide of anger-fueled nausea. Tremors shoot up and down the length of his arms, bony elbows digging into his thighs as he struggles to keep himself from collapsing forward.

His phone begins to vibrate in his back pocket. Yuri pulls it out with trembling hands. He fumbles and almost drops it. Through the blurry film over his eyes, he sees nothing more of the contact than that it’s a short name — two letters at most.

 _JJ_.

He dismisses the call as he stumbles off of the toilet. The lock proves to be a struggle in his rush to return to his room, but Yuri twists it about and manages to throw open the door. He stalks back toward his bed, where JJ still waits for him on the computer screen.

Yuri throws his phone onto the mattress. He doesn’t climb back up yet, but stands to the side of the bed while he glares at the screen.

“ _What the FUCK_?!” he screams again.

“Yura…” JJ says, voice going softer now that Yuri has returned. “Baby, why are you crying?”

Yuri flinches, on the verge of snapping a denial when he realizes his cheeks are wet.

His blurry vision isn’t the result of blinding anger, but of _tears_.

Hands fly up to his face to wipe the moisture away. The effort proves useless, of course. More tears slip free to replace the ones Yuri brushes off in shame. Impatient and humiliated, Yuri scrubs at his face again and again, until he can do nothing but admit defeat and hide behind the shelter of his hands.

What is _happening_? Why the fuck is he _crying_ about this? He can’t even remember the last time he cried about _anything_. He isn’t the type for it. Not usually. Not unless he’s overwhelmed, and all of the emotions he’s held back for weeks or months or years finally burst free all at once. He cries only when something’s worth crying over. His first Grand Prix Final gold, for example — earned after over half a year of rebuilding himself, and excruciatingly difficult competitions that brought him to the edge of his limits. Or Deda falling ill and needing to be hospitalized, when Yuri could do nothing more than fret and sit at his bedside and imagine the horror of a life without him.

But this… _this_ can’t possibly be worth the tears. Anger and frustration and disappointment — those are trivialities, temporary reactions that will fade as soon as he regains some semblance of control over the thoughts swirling in his head.

“Baby…”

Yuri’s eyes squeeze tightly shut, sending another flood of tears down his cheeks. His face feels uncomfortably hot, damp and itchy. His nose is stuffy, threatening to release a torrent of snot at any moment. Yuri sniffs and moves a hand to rub at it, then takes a few gasping breaths through his mouth.

“Baby, what’s _wrong_?”

Finally, Yuri gives up his fight for control. He stumbles onto the bed and collapses onto his side, letting his tears soak into the dark purple sheet beneath him.

“This is so much _bullshit_ ,” he croaks.

“Can we please talk about it?” JJ asks, voice low and soft, but a bit strained, too, as if he’s trying desperately to hold back.

Yuri wipes at his face again, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes until he manages to clear away some of the blur. He looks toward the computer screen, where JJ sits and watches, face a little pale, hair mused from tense fingers, eyes oddly wet.

He looks crushed.

“Why are you upset?” Yuri chokes out.

“Because _you_ are,” JJ says, “and I can’t do anything about it.”

Yuri’s breath shudders out of him. He turns away again, hiding his face against the mattress as his shoulders quake.

No one has ever shown so much anguish for him simply because of their inability to offer comfort.

“How the fuck is any of this _fair_?” Yuri says. When JJ has no answer for him, Yuri continues, “Seung-gil and Phichit had sex _once_ and now Seung-gil’s having a baby. Your brother’s _barely_ eighteen and he’s _pregnant_. Do either of them even _want_ this?”

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’m so fucking pissed off,” Yuri growls through his misery. “And I’m pissed off that I’m pissed off, so tell me I’m a fucking idiot and talk some fucking sense into me or something, because this sucks ass and I hate myself so fucking much right now.”

“Why do you hate yourself?”

“Because why the _fuck_ do I have to feel like this?” Yuri looks back toward the screen, but his vision has gone blurry again and it’s difficult to make out JJ’s expression. “I’m so fucking _stupid_.”

Everything about this is stupid. The way he feels. The way he’s reacted. Every little detail, from the ridiculous fantasies in his head to the aching in his chest. If he could force it all away, pretend he’s never hoped or dreamed for anything beyond the career he’s dedicated his entire life to, Yuri would do it without question — only he can’t imagine anyone would believe him, much less JJ, who Yuri has spilled his heart to on more than one occasion in recent months.

“You’re not stupid,” JJ says.

“I _am_ ,” Yuri insists. “This is such a fucking joke. Just… talk me out of it. Tell me there’s no fucking way we’d ever be able to make a baby work. Tell me I’ll be a shit mother.”

“You won’t be a shit mother. And this can work as long as we’re realistic about our expectations.”

Yuri sniffs wetly. “We’ve only been together for three months. How is any of this realistic?”

“You’ve known who I am for almost ten years,” JJ patiently reminds him. “We’ve been on speaking terms for almost eight years. We’ve been friends for four years. We’ve been sleeping together for a year. So _what_ if we’ve only been in a relationship for three months. We have plenty of history to make up for it. This — you and me — it’s been there in some capacity for longer than you want to admit.”

He’s right, of course. _Fuck_ , why is it that JJ always seems to be right about everything?

Probably because he isn’t living in denial. He doesn’t let himself be weighed down by pessimism. He actually _tries_ to make things work, because he acknowledges their worth and he isn’t afraid to admit _exactly_ what he wants. He has the experience to back it up. He’s been through romance and a marriage before, and even though the latter failed, he’s learned how a relationship is supposed to function. He’s recognized his flaws and he’s been striving to overcome them.

Yuri can’t say the same for himself. He clings to his denial because it’s safe. He relies on cynicism because hope and optimism often lead to disappointment. He knows nothing about romance other than what he’s observed from other people, but he’s _seen_ that no two relationships are the same, and while that makes a certain amount of sense, it leaves him feeling confused and conflicted, because he has no idea what’s right for him, or what’s right for JJ, or what’s right for the two of them together. He knows what his flaws are but has struggled to improve upon them, because selfishness hurts less than compassion.

“Tell me what the fuck I should do,” Yuri says. It sounds like a plea to his own ears. He can only imagine what it sounds like to JJ. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Do what you want,” JJ replies. “Do what will make you happy. If this is making you so upset, stop holding back and let me help you. We can start trying for a baby after Worlds.”

Yuri shuts his mouth around a habitual rejection. He swallows and scrubs at his face again. His skin feels irritated beneath the moisture, cheeks itchy and eyes swollen.

“Okay?” JJ asks.

In Yuri’s mind, committing to this means he won’t have any room for denial anymore.

It means acknowledging that he’s committed himself to JJ.

And maybe that’s a stupid thing to avoid after everything they’ve been through. Perhaps he never should have tried to avoid it in the first place. Yuri doesn’t play games or fuck around when it comes to the people he cares about. He doesn’t have passing fancies. He isn’t like Viktor, who used to flit from person to person before he met Yuuri and finally grew serious. He isn’t like Otabek, who doesn’t care for commitment or stability, who’d rather share a single night with someone he favors in the heat of the moment, rather than risk chaining himself to someone who might not be right for him years later.

If Yuri takes the time to grow close to someone, he gives all of himself to them. If he’s going to make an effort to nurture a relationship, then he’s going to be in it for the long haul, no matter how difficult it might be.

If he agrees, then he will be JJ’s not for weeks or months or years, but for a lifetime.

No. Who is he trying to fool?

He was JJ’s the moment they set eyes on one another at the Olympics. He was JJ’s when they carefully avoided the topic at Mila and Sara’s wedding. He was JJ’s when they split a bottle of champagne between them after the Cup of China. He was JJ’s when Isabella spat out the news of their divorce. He was JJ’s the very night he arrived in Colorado Springs.

Maybe he’s been JJ’s for years now — since the very first time they stood on the podium together, when they were both young and stupid and no good for one another.

He’s been JJ’s for so long, it’s the only thing about his life that feels right anymore.

Finally, through a shaky inhale, Yuri nods.

When he exhales after, a heavy weight seems to lift from his shoulders.

All of the frustration and disappointment he’s been struggling beneath for months now — _years_ , really — begins to recede just enough that he feels as if he can finally breathe. The toxic outrage and recurring denial loosen their grip on his heart. He breathes deeply and deliberately, and the ache in his lungs begins to subside. The knots abusing his stomach slowly unravel. When the fantasies he’s tried so hard to ignore inevitably break free, they don’t hurt anymore. They’re more distinct than ever before, full of dark hair and blue eyes and happy laughter.

Yuri opens his eyes and looks at the computer screen. There’s relief on JJ’s face — a tentative smile and wet eyes he makes no effort to hide.

“Sorry,” Yuri says, before he can cut himself off and bury the apology. His voice is hoarse and quiet, but he knows JJ hears him.

“Why are you sorry?”

“For this.” Yuri waves a hand at his face, unsure if the heat in his cheeks is from the crying or from latent embarrassment.

It’s humiliating to fall apart like this, especially in front of JJ. Yuri only ever wants him to see strength and competency, not the emotional mess he keeps hidden as far down as he can.

“Don’t apologize,” JJ tells him, smile widening with affection as his glittering eyes grow warm. “I love seeing all the different pieces of you, even when they hurt.”

Yuri’s heart skips a beat. For once, it isn’t an uncomfortable sensation.

He sighs and lets his eyes drift shut again, more exhausted now than he was when he woke up that morning. Since yesterday, in fact. Or a week ago. A week before that, even. Or a month or two. A year, as the fatigue of a life spent determinedly pushing forward finally caught up with him.

JJ’s voice drifts from the laptop then, quietly singing.

 

> _The second star to the right_  
>  _Shines in the night for you,_  
>  _To tell you that the dreams you plan_  
>  _Really can come true._

That stupid, wonderful voice. That unbelievable, exquisite tenderness. Those fucking beautiful eyes Yuri knows without looking are fastened onto him with fondness and joy.

Yuri relaxes against the mattress despite the ridiculousness of it all. Tomorrow, when he wakes — late enough to practice and the earns a rant from Yakov — some of the humiliation will return, for his emotional outburst, for his undeniable agreement, for the calm that settles over him the longer JJ sings.

But for now he feels nothing except a relief.

And when he sleeps, he dreams of JJ singing to a new baby — every night, whether he’s far away or there to hold them, the way does with Melody.

* * *

[A phone recording of Melody sitting in her high chair, clumsily clapping along to the Russian nursery rhyme “Ladushki, Ladushki,” which three different voices — Yuri, Pavel, and Lidiya — recite from the iPad set on the table in front of her.]

 **Jjleroy!15** Princess Mel has finally learned how to clap. Next up on the list: the royal wave! #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl #proudpapa #yuriplisetskyisasecretsoftie

**99,873 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** Yuri Plisetsky is also an excellent teacher  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Trust me, there are many other areas in which you excel ;D  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 Perv  
**christophe-gc** @yuri_plisetsky @Jjleroy!15 Oh do tell  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @christophe-gc I will make both of your lives hell  
**nadya_polunina** Pavel and Lidiya are absolutely in love with Melody!  
**Jjleroy!15** @nadya_polunina Good, because we’ll be visiting Saint Petersburg this May!  
**nadya_polunina** @Jjleroy!15 They’ll be so excited!!!  
**sophie-leroy00** Dawwwwww look at that smile  
**Jjleroy!15** @sophie-leroy00 She’s completely enamored  
**sophie-leroy00** @Jjleroy!15 Who would’ve thought Yuri Plisetsky had this sort of skill  
**yuri_plisetky** @sophie-leroy00 @Jjleroy!15 I live to defy expectations  
**leo_de_la_iglesia** Baby’s growing up so fast  
**Jjleroy!15** @leo_de_la_iglesia It almost breaks my heart

MARCH 7

* * *

The next week passes in a notably less dramatic fashion.

Though Yuri has to force himself out of bed each morning, he arrives to practice on time and avoids more lectures about punctuality from Yakov. He spends every other afternoon on the ice with Pavel, even if it means nothing more than skating slowly around the rink and performing the most basic of skating skills. He’s far more attentive during his ballet sessions with Lilia, which results in more praise and less carefully repressed concern from her. He doesn’t shout at Vasiliy — at least not as much — and he consents to socialize more with the other skaters, even sharing lunch with Yuuri and Kenjirou on Wednesday instead of eating alone.

No one remarks on the change, but there’s an obvious sense of relief that settles over everyone. Yuuri’s scent doesn’t fluctuate with concern as often. Lilia’s expressions ease just enough that she no longer appears as tense as before. The entire training complex breathes easily, refocusing their attention on the fast approaching World Championships rather than the cloud of resentment Yuri managed to draw them all into.

His conversations with JJ see further improvement every night. They talk about the same everyday things they’ve discussed since their first FaceTime call — practice, Melody’s developments, and JJ’s new house, which JJ takes Yuri through on camera on Wednesday evening, beaming with excitement as he does so.

“That wallpaper is horrifying,” Yuri comments of the formal living-room.

Almost everything about the interior reminds him of Lilia’s place, except that Lilia has better tastes in patterns and color schemes. Even empty, the house looks like the sort of place that was once filled with decadent antiques. It has what most people would describe as “character” and “charm” — far different from the modern design Viktor prefers, or the more contemporary look Yuuri has managed to squeeze into their apartment. Yuri can’t be sure what he was expecting from JJ, but the vintage grandness of it seems to agree with his “kingly” tastes.

“Don’t worry,” JJ says. “It’s all coming down.”

“I still don’t trust your eye for interior design.”

“Babe, your idea of tasteful decorations involves an overabundance of leopard print.”

“Sometimes cheetah,” Yuri counters.

“And tiger?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “ _Obviously_.”

Another evening, they spend time making plans for the off-season — from a few weeks in Montreal directly after the World Championships, to Yuri’s trip to Almaty at the end of April, to JJ’s and Melody’s visit to Saint Petersburg at the beginning of May, and to their joint sojourn to Moscow for the first meeting with Deda. Every single commitment draws out even more of JJ’s enthusiasm, to the point that Yuri feels his own excitement growing by the day.

“I need to know if you’re going to be my plus one at Charlie’s wedding,” JJ says on Friday.

Yuri groans and drops his head onto the edge of the coffee table. “I hate weddings.”

The complaint doesn’t weaken JJ’s cheerfulness. He laughs and responds, “So you’ve said.”

“What do I get if I agree?”

“You’re expecting rewards now?”

“You said you want to spoil me,” Yuri reminds him, lifting his head to glare sullenly.

“True,” JJ allows. “Okay, sweetpea. What would you like?”

“I don’t know. I’ll take an IOU for now.”

Yuri relents and agrees to suffer through the event — but only because he’ll get something from it, and because Guang Hong and Leo, Phichit, and Otabek will all be there to keep him company while JJ sees to his best man duties.

That JJ will spend the entire day looking extra handsome in a stylish suit is just a bonus.

By that weekend, Yuri’s mood has seen such a significant improvement, the turmoil from the week before seems like it might not have happened at all. Yuri isn’t prepared to accept that unbottling his emotions on a more regular basis might actually be beneficial, but he can’t deny that he feels better in the aftermath, and he begins to grow more comfortable with the idea of opening himself up to JJ.

Practice that Saturday ends pleasantly. Yuri is no less exhausted from it, but he’s satisfied with his progress for the first time since the days leading up to the Grand Prix Final. He leaves the training complex in better spirits, counting down one more day between now and the day he’ll leave Saint Petersburg for Naples.

He falls asleep during his FaceTime call with JJ that night, lulled by the sound of JJ’s voice, halfway through another conversation about the remodeling to be done to the house.

Sunday morning, Yuri calls Deda as usual, then spends his off day on the couch again. He watches television in a daze. Focusing on anything else proves to be difficult. By early afternoon, he discards the book he was trying to read and chooses a couple of random movies to pass the time. Potya curls up beside him, purring as he scratches his fingers along the back of her neck. He naps again, even though he got plenty of sleep the night before, and he only leaves his pit of laziness to scrounge around for food.

Yuri doesn’t shower until much later, soon before he has to head to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s apartment for their weekly dinner. The hot water eases some of the tension in his shoulders and feels glorious against his sore muscles. Yuri spends some time just standing beneath the spray, letting his head hang and his eyes close under the damp curtain of his hair as the minor stresses of the week slowly melt away.

When he finally summons the energy to rid himself of the daily buildup of grime, Yuri shampoos his hair, rinses thoroughly, then works in a deep conditioning treatment. He lets it set while he slowly washes, making long paths and lazy circles over his skin with the soap.

It’s as he works a lather over his torso that a shot of annoyance interrupts an otherwise calm day. His chest aches like a bitch, nipples over-sensitive and the entire area around them tender beneath his touch. It’s bothered him since the weak before, but it’s only grown worse as time has passed. The mild abdominal cramps haven’t helped, but at least they aren’t as painful as usual. For now, anyway. That will undoubtedly change once his period finally starts…

Yuri freezes in place, staring at the wall of the shower as his mouth drops open.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes. 

 

> _Your period is scheduled to start today._

When did he receive that notification? Yuri wracks his brain for the appropriate memory, going back over the last week until he comes upon the answer.

Lunch time. Last Saturday, maybe? The fourth.

Today is the twelfth.

“Oh, _shit_.”

Yuri rinses off in record time, heedless of the water pounding against his aching chest, nearly ripping some of the hair from his head as he washes the conditioner out. He fumbles with the knob to shut the water off, stumbles out of the tub, and makes a hasty dive for the cabinet under the sink. He tracks water all over the floor, soaking the pajamas he stripped out of as soon as he closed himself into the bathroom, but Yuri pays absolutely no attention to it as he digs around bottles of lotion and extra toilet paper to find the spare pregnancy tests he hasn’t touched since the beginning of January.

“Shit, shit, shit, _shit_.”

He doesn’t have to pee. _Fuck_ , of all the times to have an empty bladder. Yuri rips open the bathroom door without bothering with so much as a towel to cover his nudity. He makes a mad dash for the kitchen, where he grabs the largest glass he has, fills it with water, and starts chugging.

One glass. Two. Three. Yuri’s sure he’s never guzzled down so much water over such a short period of time in his entire life. He drinks like he’s spent the last few days dying from dehydration, choking with urgency and spilling water down his chin. It trickles over his neck before sliding down his chest, his skin still slick from the shower. His hair hangs around his face in sodden tangles, dripping water onto the kitchen floor that Potya trots over to inspect.

It seems to take forever until he feels the need to pee. Yuri darts back to the bathroom, tripping over a stray hoodie along the way. His cursing becomes more impassioned as he relieves himself, collecting more urine in the little plastic cup than he actually needs.

Yuri’s hands are shaking when he pulls a pregnancy test out of the box. He almost drops it, but manages to catch the stick before it clatters to the floor. He dips the absorbent end into his pee and counts up to twenty seconds, forcing himself not to rush it, though every cell in his body screams at him to hurry.

The wait after is pure torture. He leaves the test stick on the counter and refuses to look at it. Grabbing his phone, Yuri pulls up his period app to check the status of his cycle.

 

> _Eight days late._

_Fuck_ , how could he not have noticed? He’s been logging his symptoms every day. Distractedly, yes, but this seems like a _huge_ fucking oversight.

Yuri scans over the app’s calendar, scrolling back a month to his last cycle in February.

And there it is.

He should have ovulated during Four Continents. The end of the week, if his app has been tracking things correctly. He’s only been using it for barely more than a month; there’s no telling how accurate it actually is.

But he and JJ had sex that week, every night and over several mornings.

 _Without_ any condoms, and no other birth control.

“ _Fuck_.”

He starts pacing, still completely naked and dripping water, from the side of the bathtub, out the door, to the edge of his bed, and back again — over and over as the rational voice in his head screams at him for being so fucking _stupid_.

What the _fuck_ had he been thinking?

Perhaps the more appropriate question would be why he didn’t think at all. Because he didn’t. Not once the entire time he was in Toronto. Not when he met JJ at the airport. Not any time they had sex. Not when he looked after Melody all week. Not when Sophie announced her engagement and all those complicated feelings drew to the surface. Not even when he and JJ talked after, and Yuri edged closer to this reckless arrangement they’ve established.

The test won’t be positive, Yuri tells himself. It's supposed to be done first thing in the morning, when his pee is more concentrated. He should have waited. If it’s negative, he’ll have to take another one when he wakes up — if he’s even able to sleep at all.

When he checks the time on his phone to ensure the required three minutes have passed, Yuri edges toward the bathroom, his breathing going slightly erratic as he approaches the counter.

 

> _Pregnant_

Yuri’s heart almost stutters to a stop. His stomach drops so suddenly he feels nauseous from it.

“ _Fuck_. Fuck fuck fuck _FUCK_.”

What the _fuck_ is he supposed to do? This wasn’t part of any of the plans he’s come up with.

Okay, yes, it was. He’s _supposed_ to get pregnant. Eventually. Just not _now_. Not a week before he’s meant to leave for Worlds. Not when he hasn’t told Yakov he wants to try to have a baby. Not when he hasn’t told _JJ_ he stopped taking his birth control in December.

“Shit fuck damn fucking shit fuck fuck.”

What will JJ say? What if this fucks things up? What if JJ ends up being pissed off that Yuri more or less deceived him? How would he ever be able to make up for that? He’s kept JJ in the dark for _months_. He consented to sex, repeatedly, _enthusiastically_ , without warning JJ that this could be the potential outcome.

This isn’t what they agreed to. Every plan they’ve made together was supposed to take place after Worlds. They’d see how their relationship worked while they spent time living in the same place. They’d introduce each other to more of their friends and family. They’d take their time trying, with the hope that Yuri would get pregnant at some point over the summer.

It isn’t even officially spring yet.

This is _insane_. This is _so fucking insane_.

Yuri drops to his knees and searches the cabinet for two more pregnancy tests, thankful both that he was obsessive enough to buy so many different brands, and that he drank so much water. He collects fresh pee just to be on the safe side, then repeats the process. Dip the absorbent ends. Hold them there for twenty seconds. Set them on the counter. Pace around — for ten minutes this time instead of three, which is, of course, ten times more excruciating.

One test should show two lines if he’s pregnant. The other should show a plus sign.

When he returns to the bathroom, the results are undeniable.

 

> _Two lines._
> 
> _+_

“What the _fuck_ ,” Yuri says, with a mix of apprehension and a deep, pervasive relief.

He lets the relief wash over him first, dropping back onto his knees on the floor before he’s even aware of it, holding his head in his hands, trying to breathe through the mess in his head. He wants to be _happy_ , but he can’t be right now, so he clings to that relief like a security blanket.

He’s pregnant.

This is what he’s wanted — for _years_ , for almost half a _decade_ — ever since he fell in love with Pavel’s wide eyes and tiny fingers and the soft roundness of his cheeks. He’s waited, patiently at first, then agonizingly, his maternal instincts growing stronger with each subsequent birth, hanging in a sort of wistful limbo, always wanting, but never quite believing that yearning would ever be satisfied. Fear lingered deep in his mind, poisoning his thoughts no matter what he did to try and quell them, taunting him with fantasies during his weakest moments.

And now he’s pregnant. He’s _pregnant_. And he has three positive tests to prove it. Two lines, a plus sign, and that declaration: pregnant.

It doesn’t feel real. He’s spent so long with little more than stupid delusions, he can’t seem to process it now that it’s actually happening — now that it’s not just a stupid delusion anymore, but a stupid reality. He was a reckless idiot, tempting fate when he should have taken a more methodical approach, and now he’s going to have a baby.

 _He’s going to have a baby_.

Perhaps if Yuri keeps repeating it to himself, the belief will eventually settle in.

What should he do now?

He _has_ to tell JJ. There’s no way around that. Not unless he plans on trying to keep this a secret for a while. Fuck, he has to tell _everyone_. Deda. Lilia. _Yakov_. He’s just fucked up the end of the season. Yakov’s going to be so fucking  _pissed_. And JJ… _fuck_ , who even knows what JJ will say. It could go either way. Maybe he’ll be overjoyed — that seems like him — but when Yuri’s already in the midst of freaking out, it’s much easier to assume that the results are going to be _bad_.

Should he wait? He could keep this to himself for couple of weeks, until he’s worked through the anxiety enough that he feels a little more stable. Maybe he can get through World’s first. It’s still early…

 _No_. Absolutely not. How could he even _think_ that? There’s no way he could stomach taking that risk.

He can barely stomach the unease as it is.

“ _Shit_.”

Minutes later, Yuri forces himself onto unsteady legs. He stumbles out of the bathroom, toward his nightstand to check the time on his phone.

He’ll be late to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s if he doesn’t hurry.

For just a moment, Yuri considers not going. He doesn’t trust himself to be able to keep the alarm off of his face. Someone might notice and ask about it, and he can’t say with confidence that he won’t blurt out the truth. He could feign sickness, but none of them would leave him alone if he did. Yuuri would offer to cook for him. Lilia would insist that he spend some time at her place again. Everyone would pry, and Yuri can’t be sure, in his current frame of mind, if he’d be able to keep up the ruse.

He swallows down the sick, nervous feeling rising in his throat. He evens out his breathing, inhaling deep and exhaling slow until his heart stops pounding as much. His thoughts continue to spin wildly, but he can solve that problem as soon as he’s able to focus on caring for Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina.

Yuri grabs a towel and dries off. He dresses methodically — clean underwear, a fresh pair of sweats, and a warm shirt, before digging JJ’s hoodie out of one of his laundry baskets. He cleans up the streaks and puddles of water he tracked all over the apartment, then ensures that his bathroom is returned to some semblance of cluttered order. He disposes of the urine and the cup, and caps off the three positive tests to deposit them on his nightstand.

By the time he’s made the drive to Yuuri’s and Viktor’s apartment, Yuri has approached something resembling serenity. Outwardly, at least. There’s nothing to do for the internal screaming.

He says nothing to anyone about what’s happened. He steals Karina as usual and helps Yuuri cook when she’s taken away again. He grumbles through conversations and behaves as normal, scoffing and rolling his eyes when appropriate, insulting Viktor whenever the opportunity presents itself, and smiling as soon and Pavel and Lidiya burst through the door. No one seems to notice that there’s something amiss. Not Yakov. Not Yuuri or Viktor. Not Kenjirou, or that annoying piece of shit Vasiliy. Not Georgi or Nadya. Not the children.

All except Lilia, who takes to watching him shrewdly when Yuri doesn’t consume a single glass of wine.

She follows him when he goes into the kitchen for more water. She doesn’t ask him anything, just lifts a single brow like she already knows what’s troubling him and only wants to clarify.

She would though, wouldn’t she? She knows when his period should have started.

Yuri swallows down the nervous nausea that sweeps through him. (Although, knowing what he knows now, perhaps it isn’t the nervousness causing it at all.) He answers with nothing more than a shallow nod.

Lilia returns the gesture, cups his cheek with one of her fine, cold hands, and murmurs, “We’ll discuss this with Yakov in the morning.”

After, Yuri avoids most of the conversation occurring in the living-room and pours all of his attention into the children. He walks around the apartment with Karina, rubbing her back until she falls asleep against his shoulder. He plays with Lidiya, building block towers or helping her take care of her baby doll. He reads to Pavel, who brought a stack of books with him for just that purpose, and when they both start yawning, Yuri takes him into the guest room and they curl up in bed together.

His eyes prick with a few tears as he smooths down Pavel’s hair and listens to his quiet breathing. He’ll miss all of them to the point of heartache when he moves to Montreal. And he knows now that he’s going to, unless his visit after Worlds turns out to be a disaster. Somehow, Yuri doubts it will be. He has a feeling, beneath all the cynicism he uses as a shield, that he and JJ will settle into a domestic life together with surprising ease.

Georgi finds them there before they leave, concern seeping over his face when he notices how tightly Yuri clings to Pavel.

“Yura?”

“I’m okay,” Yuri says.

He wakes Pavel gently and passes him off to his parents. Yuri says his goodbyes soon after, dragging his tired feet on his way to his car, where he sits in silence for ten minutes before making the drive home.

It’s late when he returns — an hour passed his scheduled bedtime. Yuri almost considers putting off the conversation with JJ until tomorrow. JJ has seen how tired he’s been recently. He won’t be upset if Yuri texts him goodnight instead of calling. If anything, he’ll probably encourage Yuri to get as much sleep as he needs, even if it means they miss their daily FaceTime call.

But Yuri knows that, no matter how exhausted he is, he won’t be able to sleep with such a monumental secret weighing him now. It’s going to eat at him all night if he doesn’t come clean. The sooner he gets this over with, the better.

He settles into bed, carrying Potya with him on the way. He has to take a few deep breaths to prepare himself to open his laptop, then a few more because he can’t convince himself to make the call.

It may be later than they usually FaceTime, but as they share an off day, JJ shouldn’t be too busy. It’s still Sunday afternoon in Montreal. Sometimes, JJ will spend the day with his family after morning Mass; just as often, he passes the afternoon alone with Melody.

So it isn’t surprising at all that JJ answers after the first few rings.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

His smile is broad and his eyes are bright and there’s exercise equipment all around him. His face is flushed from exertion and his hair is mussed and his skin glistens with sweat, and Yuri is so, _so_ fucked.

He wants to kiss him. And fuck him. And lay around in bed with him doing absolutely nothing. He wants to run his hands all over that warm skin, trace every single one of JJ’s tattoos, and cup JJ’s face in his hands to feel that stupid, sexy beard Yuri has still not verbally approved of. He wants to do so much gross shit, like hold JJ’s hand or go for a walk together or sit down to dinner alone. He wants to listen to JJ talk, even if it’s nothing more than teasing remarks and sweet nicknames that should make Yuri gag, but don’t anymore, no matter how much he tries to make himself hate them.

It hurt to think of leaving Saint Petersburg, just like it hurt to leave Moscow when he was a child, but there’s a part of Yuri that craves JJ’s presence enough that he can’t wait to be with him in Montreal.

Yuri’s tongue feels clumsy, too big for his mouth when he speaks. “You need to go somewhere where you can be alone.”

JJ’s smile falters. He pushes a sweaty lock of hair off of his forehead as his entire expression grows tense with concern. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Yuri says, before he can think better of it. He shakes his head to get his mind back on track, then quickly corrects himself. “ _Yes_. But I need to talk to you and no one else can be around.”

“Are you sure you’re—”

“ _Please_ , JJ. It’s important.”

He never begs like this. Not unless JJ’s was right about that night after the Cup of China — and Yuri still refuses to believe it. He doesn’t beg, he demands, and if people are smart, they listen.

But he begs now, and it’s enough to have JJ snapping to attention.

“Yeah, okay. Give me a minute.”

Yuri waits, watching JJ take a towel to his sweaty face and drain half a bottle of water. The scenery changes when JJ leaves the exercise equipment behind. Yuri can’t tell where JJ is, but when he hears the chatter of loud voices and sees a couple of vaguely familiar faces passing by, he thinks it might be the Leroy house. JJ drifts further away from the voices until Yuri can no longer hear them, trotting up a flight of stairs and following the length of a hallway until he enters another room and shuts the door behind him.

From what little of the room Yuri can see, he suspects it’s JJ’s teenage bedroom. There are hockey posters on the one blue wall within view, and a cork board stuck through with pictures and slips of paper covered in indistinguishable writing.

“Okay, tell me what’s wrong,” JJ says.

Yuri swallows, but has no further success loosening his throat. “You should sit down.”

JJ laughs nervously. “I think I’d rather stand. You’re kind of freaking me out here.”

“Sorry,” Yuri mumbles.

JJ eyes him like Yuri’s grown a second head. “Now I know something’s up. That’s the second time you’ve apologized in a week.”

“I… there’s just… something happened and it’s kind of really fucking serious and… I think I’ve fucked up.”

“Babe, stop.” JJ’s gaze narrows on him. Fortunately, he looks more confused that suspicious. “I’m sure it’s fine. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

With a groan, Yuri scrapes his fingers down his face.

He looks awful on the screen — paler than usual, with messy hair in a careless bun and a wild, almost manic gleam in his eyes. It must look even worse on JJ’s end. Yuri figures it’s a good thing JJ’s probably on his phone instead of his iPad. Maybe he can’t see the full extent of it.

Yuri’s heart rate picks up again. He tries to calm it with another series of slow, even breaths. In and out. _Controlled_. He closes his eyes and sorts through his scattered thoughts until he’s figured out how he wants to begin.

“I haven’t been taking my birth control.”

There’s silence at first. It stretches on so long, Yuri cracks an eye open to check JJ’s reaction. At most, JJ seems perplexed.

Eventually, JJ chuckles. “That’s no big deal. You’re trying to get pregnant. The sooner you stop, the sooner everything’ll get back on track.”

“No, I mean…” Yuri swallows too quickly and chokes on an excess of saliva. When he clears his throat enough to speak again, he rasps, “I mean I haven’t been taking it since the Final. I stopped. _After_. Before I went home that morning.”

“Oh…”

JJ’s face goes slack. It takes a while for him to say anything else, to the point that Yuri thinks JJ might be irritated. The slow, teasing smile that eventually curves JJ’s mouth disabuses him of that notion fairly quickly.

“And you gave me such a hard time about jumping right into things. You’re such a hypocrite, babe. Here I’ve been trying to talk you into it for months, and you’re already one step ahead.”

Not just a step. An entire kilometer, more like.

Yuri hates himself, just a little, for the amount of caution in his voice. “You’re not angry?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I didn’t tell you. I didn’t even _ask_.”

JJ shrugs, and it’s so nonchalant Yuri wants to smack some sense into him. “I offered. And I meant it. Yeah, maybe you should’ve let me know, but I’m not upset about it. It obviously didn’t…”

Before Yuri can let himself feel relieved, JJ trails off. His smile drops. His lips part like he means to continue, but no words come out. His eyes widen just slightly. Yuri can almost see JJ’s thoughts shifting through those windows of silver-blue. Whatever sort of smug, confident exterior JJ might project to the world, his eyes really do show his soul — so often joyful and warm, and bright with passion, but also, on occasion, soft, gentle, and vulnerable.

Yuri sees restrained amazement when the realization dawns. It’s clear what JJ must be considering. Three weeks have passed since they left Toronto. Three weeks, following eight straight days of unprotected sex.

With JJ’s reassurances fresh in his mind, and with that look of awe slowly crawling over JJ’s face, it’s much easier to confess. The next breath Yuri takes actually manages to settle some of his frazzled nerves.

He stares JJ in the eyes and says, “Okay, so… I’m pregnant.”

He doesn’t expect an immediate response; JJ might need time to let the thought sink in. Yuri surely did. After all, a pregnancy isn’t such an easy thing to process, especially one that’s taken them both by surprise.

Yuri wonders if he should explain, tell JJ that his period slipped his mind. That he thought the symptoms meant it was coming. They’re really very similar, now that he thinks about it. Except the fatigue has been worse. And the tenderness in his chest has become unbearable instead of just annoying. And he hasn’t had such awful mood swings since he was an undisciplined teenager. And, yes, okay, the mild nausea hasn’t ever crept up ahead of a period before, but there always seemed to be a reason for it every time he’s noticed it. Nerves, more often than not. Or eating something outside of his diet plan.

“You’re shitting me,” JJ says, voice disconcertingly level.

Yuri cringes and shakes his head.

Then he doesn’t have to worry about anything, because JJ beams at him with a smile that’s nothing short of pure joy — a flash of perfect teeth, followed by an outburst of elated laughter. His eyes shine with a brightness and a warmth completely at odds with their light, cool blue color. JJ’s free hand rises into a fist, pumping the air a few times as if to congratulate himself for a job well done, and Yuri can’t even be disgusted with him for it, because his insides feel like they’re dissolving into a gooey puddle.

It takes everything Yuri has not to let his expression turn doting.

And isn’t that absolutely _sickening_?

What the fuck is _wrong_ with him?

“When did you find out?” JJ asks, sounding a little breathless as he runs a hand through his hair to push it all off of his forehead. It’s damp with enough sweat that most of it stays back without much fuss.

“Before I went to dinner.”

Yuri reaches for the positives tests on his nightstand, almost knocking one to the floor in his haste to retrieve them. Once he has all three, he holds their displays close to the camera to show JJ one by one.

“Holy shit.”

“So this is okay?” Yuri still feels the need to ask. He drops the tests onto the bed next to his thigh, grabbing Potya to relocate her onto his other side when she tries to bat at one.

“Are you kidding? Baby, this is great!” JJ pauses and seems to fight through the elation enough to find his concern again. “Are _you_ okay? You’re not upset, are you?”

“No.”

No, not anymore. He wasn’t really before, he simply couldn’t feel happy about it until he knew what JJ’s reaction would be. Yuri has no idea _why_ he’d expected anything different from JJ. The instantaneous acceptance certainly helps take some of the stress off, though, and something like hesitant excitement begins to swell in him.

Now, Yuri allows himself to drown in the relief.

He’s pregnant, and JJ’s happy about it, and even though it still doesn’t feel real yet, Yuri can almost believe that this is a _good_ thing. Gone are the last tentative barriers that once stood between them. Gone is the indecision Yuri has been battling for months. This is it. This is the culmination of everything they’ve been through — from rivals to lovers to some sort of romantic pair. This is where all those roads must have been leading.

Perhaps Yuri was just shit at reading the signs.

“Okay,” JJ says, like he’s trying to control himself, “Okay, so… Obviously this changes a lot. Actually, no, it doesn’t really change anything, but… I mean, we should start figuring out what’s next.”

It’s cute — the stammering. JJ doesn’t often stammer.

Yuri also doesn’t often think he’s _cute_ , but here they are.

“Which would be what, exactly?” he asks.

“Finding a doctor for you while you’re in Montreal.”

Yuri would be surprised by the speed with which they settle back into their normal behaviors if it didn’t feel so natural to do so.

He groans, dramatically throws himself back against the wall the head of his bed butts up against, and complains, “Fuck. _No_. I _hate_ doctors.”

JJ chuckles, as amused by Yuri’s antics as he always seems to be. “You act like you don’t see your medical staff on a regular basis.”

“That’s _different_.”

“Would you rather have a midwife or an OB/GYN?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and grumbles “neither” under his breath, but as he doesn’t expect he’ll get his wish under the circumstances, he eventually gives a more legitimate response. “What’s the difference as far as overall experience?”

“I think things are a little more personal with a midwife,” JJ rubs at his bearded jaw, though the action seems more thoughtful than stressed this time. “Like, as far as who you see and what the labor experience is like. Everyone I know who’s ever had a midwife swears by them for low risk pregnancies. But there tends to be a pretty high demand for them, so if you want one, you might have to go on a waiting list. I could probably pull some strings, though.”

Of _course_ the bastard could pull some strings. After several competitive visits to Canada, Yuri has become very well acquainted with their views and opinions about their golden boy — precious Jean-Jacques Leroy, the best thing to come out of Canada since… well, Yuri can’t really think of anything, not being as well versed with Canada as he probably should be at this point. Regardless, with the way most of them bend over backwards for JJ, he may as well be the fucking king he’s always claimed to be.

Yuri contemplates his options, but he can’t seem to make a decision with any confidence. He doesn’t particularly _care_ if the attention he receives from a medical professional is personal or not. He’d prefer it to be as _im_ personal as possible, actually. He’s not looking to make _friends_. But then all of his experiences with an OB thus far have involved far too many instances of uncomfortable — and often unwanted — poking and prodding. If he could minimize that without being pressured to reconsider his choices, he may be able to tolerate it more.

“Which did your wife have?” Yuri asks, because that seems to be the best way to make up his mind.

“She saw an OB.”

“Then I want a midwife.”

JJ snorts. He’s been doing that more often these days, like he’s picked it up from Yuri and isn’t even aware of it. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

Yuri turns his head toward his shoulder to hide a smirk.

“You think you’re cute,” JJ says.

“I think no such thing,” Yuri lightly argues, turning back to glare at him.

“You _are_ cute.”

“So you tell me. Every day.”

“You say that like it annoys you,” JJ teases him, “when we both know you like it.”

“You’ll think what you want no matter what I say,” Yuri counters.

JJ’s smug, lopsided grin makes an appearance. “You’re stuck with me now, sweetpea.”

Yuri is by no means stuck with anything. He doesn’t have to be, at least, and he’d say it, too, if he regretted anything about what’s happened.

Maybe he _should_ regret it. Maybe he should be more cautious, especially with recent developments. He’s spent these last few months trying to rein himself in, trying to be smart and levelheaded about everything, when all he wanted to do was dive right in without looking back. If there was a risk that everything might be doomed to fail before, the risk has to be even greater now. A baby will change their lives, but it won’t magically improve upon a relationship that was already uncertain at the start. If anything, a baby could prove too difficult for them. It’s a bigger change than anything they’ve ever faced before.

But when he thinks of being “stuck” with JJ, Yuri finds that the images his mind conjures aren’t vexing or horrifying in the least. They’re refreshing, in a way, almost heartening, and he wonders if, this time, things really have fallen into place.

“Before long, you’ll be celebrating the day we met like it’s a holiday,” JJ says.

Yuri snorts, and because everything about this moment is so ridiculous, so preposterous, so _completely_ unexpected, his snort smoothly transitions into genuine laughter — not loud howling, but short, quiet snickering.

JJ’s face lights up like he’s won another gold medal. “My life is complete now. I got you to laugh. _God_ , it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yuri resists. “That’s a lie. Look at your daughter.”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. But this is still way up there.”

With a roll of his eyes, Yuri regains control over his expression enough to even out the set of his features. “Are you going to tell anyone?”

“Do you want me to?”

Yuri shrugs, unsure how to answer.

“Have _you_ told anyone?” JJ asks.

“No. But Lilia knows. I don’t even have to say anything. She just always knows everything.”

“We could wait a while and surprise everyone else.”

“Except Deda,” Yuri says. “I want to tell him tomorrow. And Yakov. I’ll have to withdraw from Worlds.”

After everything, that conclusion is an easy pill to swallow.

JJ releases a heavy, put-upon sigh, but it doesn’t sound authentic in the least, especially when JJ jokes, “I guess I won’t be getting my ass kicked this year.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Will you still come? I can bring Mel again.”

Yuri doesn’t pause to think it over. He doesn’t consider that some of their carefully made plans might have to change. He doesn’t worry about all the parts of his life — all the parts of _their_ lives — that will have to adapt as the next several months progress.

He takes in JJ’s handsome, jubilant face, and he says, “Yeah…”

Five years ago, Yuri stared into a pair of dark brown eyes and thought he’d found love.

Tonight, he stares into pale silver-blue and imagines he can see his entire future laid out in front of him.

* * *

[A photograph of a blond haired baby boy, perhaps seven or eight months old despite being a little on the small side, dressed in a pale blue pajama onesie, fast asleep on a thin blanket with his legs tucked underneath him, and his butt in the air.]

 **yuri_plisetsky** Baby me #babypic #iwascute

**41,286 likes**

**+guanghongji+** You’re still cute!!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Thanks whore  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky No problem slut  
**Jjleroy!15** How come this is the first time I’m seeing baby Yuri?????????  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 This is the first time most people are seeing baby Yuri  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky You look like an angel  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 I was. Then I got older and I met too many douchebags  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky I’m glad I meet your standards.  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 You don’t usually. I just adjusted my standards to include you  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky Awww babe I’m honored  
**mila-babicheva** Wow I’ve never seen you look so peaceful and sweet  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva He still looks peaceful and sweet when he sleeps  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 Lies  
**christophe-gc** Ok but do you still sleep with your skinny little ass in the air?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @christophe-gc Wtf no

MARCH 13

* * *

Early Monday morning — _too_ early, in Yuri’s opinion — before practice even begins for the day, Yuri accompanies Lilia into Yakov’s office, where they find Yakov at his computer composing an email. They sit down together, all three of them, and Yuri reveals his condition to the man who found him as a desperate little boy, and who then helped him become a star.

“You’re _what_?” Yakov growls.

Though Yuri had every intention of behaving himself when he first sat down, he can’t help but roll his eyes before issuing a flippant response. “Expecting. Knocked up. In the family way. There’s a bun in my oven.”

Lilia turns a stern frown on him, but she doesn’t have the chance to say anything, because Yakov cuts back in.

“You mean to tell me that you’ve come crawling in here, a _week_ before the World Championships, to tell me that you’re _pregnant_?”

“Yup.”

Yakov’s jaw clenches. A vein in his temple visibly throbs. The scent of his rage fills the room. It’s only a matter of seconds before he explodes.

“How could you be so _RECKLESS_?! What were you _THINKING_?! Do you have _ANY_ sense in your head?! First _Viktor_ prances off to Japan with barely any notice, and now _YOU_ set _this shit_ at my feet?! _Did you even think about what this will mean for your career_?!”

“I’m already taking next season off,” Yuri reminds him.

“ _NEXT SEASON_?! I’m not talking about _next season_! I’m talking about _after_! You think you can make a comeback?! You think you’re going to have this baby and step back out onto the ice without _ANY_ repercussions?!”

Yuri’s expression darkens. “First of all, if you think I’m not going to be out on the ice while I’m pregnant, you’re dead wrong.”

“ _Yurochka_ ,” Lilia snaps, a warning clear in her tone.

“ _What_?” Yuri scoffs. “It’s not like I’m going to be doing quads. I’ll take it easy. Just because I won’t be competing doesn’t mean I’m going to stop skating entirely. Plenty of coaches are still out on the ice with their students when they’re pregnant. _Second of all_ ,” he pauses to direct another glare at Yakov, “people have returned to skating after a pregnancy before.”

“Not in your division, they haven’t,” Yakov snarls. “Your _body_ is going to _change_.”

Yuri rolls his eyes again and clicks his tongue. “No shit.”

He may not yet have put much thought into that aspect of his pregnancy — although, it _is_ a rather difficult thing to overlook when his chest continues to ache like a motherfucker — but he is both very aware that it will happen and confident that he can handle it.

“I’ll adapt,” he continues. “I have before.”

“You grew _taller_ before, Yurochka,” Yakov argues. Yuri figures he can’t be _too_ pissed off if he’s still using the diminutive. Or perhaps he simply isn’t thinking clearly enough to alter it. “You didn’t _expand_.”

“Or grow boobs? Yeah, I know. I’ll still be _fine_. I’ll stay in shape while I’m pregnant, and I’ll get in even better shape after the baby’s born.”

“And if your career _tanks_?”

“Would you stop being so pessimistic about everything?” says Yuri, one of the most pessimistic people alive. “Fuck, if it happens, I’ll figure shit out. JJ and I have talked about it. If I’m not skating, I’ll be choreographing and giving ballet lessons. I’m not going to have a baby and then waste away into nothing. I don’t know why you’d think I wouldn’t have a _plan_.”

Probably because Yakov has never known him as anything other than a reckless idiot — which, all things considered, isn’t an unfair assessment at all. _Planning_ is not something Yuri has ever had a talent for.

“So it _is_ Leroy’s?” Yakov asks.

Yuri almost sputters, goggling at Yakov in offense. “What the _fuck_. Who the fuck do you take me for? Of course it’s _his_. Who else’s would it _be_?”

Yakov does not look shamed in the least as he growls out, “I don’t pretend to know what you get up to behind closed doors.”

“Just because Viktor used to go to orgies when he was my age doesn’t mean _I’m_ doing that shit.”

“What am I supposed to think? You told me three months ago that you were seeing Leroy, and now you’re _pregnant_. How long have you been sneaking around with him behind my back?”

“Since the fucking Olympics.”

Though that answer isn’t entirely accurate, it also isn’t completely wrong. JJ likes to view that first one night stand as the start of their romantic relationship, and while Yuri doesn’t necessarily _agree_ , the more he thinks back over their history, the more he has to admit that JJ might be onto something.

Yakov sighs heavily then. Yuri expects he may be on the verge of ripping the rest of his thinning hair out, but his coach shows surprising restraint. He sets his elbows on the surface of his desk and cups his hands against his forehead, fingers laced together while his thumbs rub into his temples. He looks very much like he could use a drink. Yuri almost suggests Yakov treat himself to the bottle of vodka he _knows_ his coach keeps hidden in the desk’s bottom drawer, but with the shouting coming to an end —  at least temporarily — he really would rather avoid initiating another round of it.

Yuri glances to Lilia beside him. Naturally, she’s completely composed, staring Yakov down even though he isn’t looking at her, as if he requires nothing more than the silence of her penetrating gaze to come to his senses. It must work, because Yakov looks up from the shield of his hands to meet Yuri’s eye. The rage has settled somewhat; Yuri can still smell it, but most of it has seeped out of Yakov’s expression. All that remains on Yakov’s aged face is a deeply set frown.

“This is what you want?” he asks, voice low but no longer growling.

At first, all Yuri does is shrug, unsure how much he actually wants to admit to Yakov. But the longer Yakov stares at him, the more uncomfortable the silence seems, so Yuri mumbles, “Yeah.”

Yakov drops his hands onto the desk, bracing himself against it as he rises from his chair. His movements are slower than they were even just a few years ago, as age finally begins to catch up with him. Yuri’s heart thuds nervously as he watches.

Yakov will be seventy-eight this year. He’s older than Deda, and generally in better health despite that, but as Yuri begins to mentally prepare himself for his inevitable move to Montreal, he can’t help but notice all the ways Yakov’s carriage has changed.

His back is not as straight as it used to be. His shoulders show more of his fatigue, like the energy reserves that once fueled his enviable stamina have been depleted too much to restore. Yakov’s eyes are as sharp as always, but there’s a weathered look to his face now. The lines etched into his skin are more pronounced — around his eyes, along his forehead, and framing the sides of his mouth. He keeps the thin remains of his gray hair short these days. Sometimes, Yakov doesn’t even bother to hide his baldness beneath his favorite fedora anymore.

There’s a slight limp in his step as Yakov rounds the desk, courtesy of an old knee injury. Lilia stands like she means to help him, but Yakov dismisses the gesture with a wave of one gnarled hand. He makes his way to Yuri and stares him down while Yuri remains seated, the unyielding quality of their gazes almost identical.

It is not lost on Yuri that these two — Yakov and Lilia — have had more influence on his life than his biological family. There’s nothing of his useless father in him, neither in his looks nor his personality, and very little of his gentle mother other than the fairness of his hair, and the fine features that earned him the “Russian Fairy” moniker. He has Deda’s eyes — their color and shape, and their vigor — and he learned the meaning of hard work and devotion from him when he was a child.

But for more than half of his life, he has been Yakov’s responsibility. For eight years, he has shadowed Lilia — in the dance studio, at social events, during interviews. They have molded him into the man he is today, sometimes with difficulty, and sometimes with unexpected ease. He has Yakov’s temper, and Yakov’s stubbornness. He has Lilia’s grace and perfectionism. He looks nothing like either of them, yet by his bearing and his attitude, it has often been said that he could easily pass as their son.

Yakov has the rich, venerable scent of a fully matured alpha. It isn’t inescapably repulsive like that of a horny teenager, or as sharp and heady as an alpha in their prime. Rather, it’s pleasantly subdued, even when Yakov’s emotions are erratic. Though Yuri will likely never admit it, out of all the scents he’s become familiar with over the course of his life, Yakov’s is one of his favorites.

He expects that’s how many well cared for children often feel about their guardians.

Yakov poses no further argument. His frown never leaves his face, but he steps closer, leans downs, and pulls Yuri into a crushing embrace.

For the first few moments, Yuri is too startled to hug him back.

They don’t hug often enough outside of competition for him to fully process what’s happening. In fact, Yuri can’t recall a single instance in which Yakov has hugged him for anything less that a clean skate or a record breaking score. Between his two coaches, Yakov isn’t the one Yuri turns to for emotional support or comfort. He barely turns to Lilia for those things, unless all his efforts to resolve a problem on his own have failed.

But Yakov hugs him now, so tightly it feels like desperation, and when he begins to pull away a short while later, Yuri’s arms fly up to pull him back. He wraps himself around Yakov’s hunched torso and squeezes until Yakov breath comes out on a wheeze, pressing his ear to Yakov’s chest to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Yakov pats Yuri’s back, then strokes Yuri’s long hair with a level of affection Yuri never would have thought he’d receive from one so gruff. When Yuri’s hold loosens, Yakov finishes with a gentle pat to the top of Yuri’s head — a mannerism he and Deda seem to share.

“I knew I never should have let you go to Toronto,” Yakov grumbles.

“You couldn’t have stopped me if you’d tried.”

Yakov frowns, but it looks like acceptance instead of anger. “You take care of yourself. Behave when you’re in Canada. Listen to the Leroys when they have you on the ice. Make sure that boyfriend of yours looks after you.”

“I can look after myself,” Yuri complains, but it’s a weak response, a low mumble professed more out of pride than anything else.

The exasperated shake of Yakov’s head seems less heated than usual, too. “I know you can, but accepting some help every once in a while won’t kill you.”

Yuri forces another roll of his eyes.

Lilia stands to her feet as Yakov makes his way around the desk to return to his computer. Yuri rises with her, ready to leave and let Yakov handle the notifications to the Skating Federation and the ISU. Neither of his coaches say a word about practice that day. Not that Yuri has any need for them to. There’s no point mentioning it, when his ice time will be taking a sharp decrease, even if he has no intention of stepping off of the ice entirely.

For now, though… taking another rest day sounds like a pretty good idea.

How did he ever think this fatigue was normal?

Out in the hallway, once the door to Yakov’s office closes behind them, Lilia stops Yuri before he can turn away.

She takes him into her arms. It’s markedly less surprising than when Yakov did it, given Lilia’s slightly more maternal role in his life, but Yuri still finds himself momentarily out of sorts, because hugs from Lilia are nearly as rare. They’re reserved for special circumstances — an emotional win, or an even more emotional loss; when Deda falls ill and Yuri can’t hide his fear; or when he’s particularly frustrated with himself, and nothing else Lilia says or does seems suitable enough to pull him out of it.

When Yuri hugs her back this time, Lilia’s hold on him tightens to such a degree that Yuri wishes he could see her face. An almost imperceptible shudder trails through her. Yuri tries to pull back so he can look into her eyes, but she yanks him closer every time, holding him with near bruising force.

It lasts for a minute at most. Finally, she releases him, easing him away until she has him at arm’s length. She’s composed again when they face one another, features sternly set and gaze inscrutable.

“Go to your apartment,” she says. “Pack some of your things. Come home this week. You can bring Potya.”

 _Home_ , she calls it.

And Yuri knows she doesn’t refer to it that way because it’s habitual for her to do so.

She says it because it’s true. His apartment has never been his home. Home is with Deda in Moscow. Home is with Lilia in Saint Petersburg.

Perhaps, one day soon, home will be in Montreal with JJ.

Until then, this is enough. Yuri nods his agreement, and he lets Lilia see the warm smile he often hides from everyone else.

* * *

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0

In this week’s figure skating gossip post, I’ll be discussing the shocking Phichit Chulanont/Seung-gil Lee baby drama. Stay tuned!

9:14 AM - 13 MARCH 2023

 **20** Retweets       **197** Likes  


**Angel babe** @1cefang1rl - 5h

I’M STILL STUNNED BY THE NEWS!!! PHICHIT!!!!!!! YOU ALWAYS SEEMED SO SWEET WHY DID YOU DO THIS??????

 

 **deb** @debruuuuuuh - 3h

Phichit is cancelled

 

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0 - 3h

Harsh

 

 **deb** @debruuuuuuh - 3h

He cheated

 

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0 - 3h

Fair enough, I suppose.

 

 **ice ice bb** @lucylucylucy - 2h

Shouldn’t Seung-gil be cancelled too?

 

 **deb** @debruuuuuuh - 1h

He’s on probation

  


**Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0

DAMN IT. I WAS JUST ABOUT TO POST. NOW I HAVE TO REWRITE THE WHOLE THING.

 

> **Angel News North America** @yurisangels_na
> 
> BREAKING NEWS: Yuri Plisetsky to sit out World Championships citing doctor’s orders to rest. Further information to come?
> 
> Maybe????
> 
> Hopefully???????

2:32 PM - 13 MARCH 2023

 **148** Retweets     **697** Likes

* * *

It’s amazing how the passage of time changes from one moment to the next. If the previous three weeks dragged on torturously slow, the final days leading up to the World Championships fly by in the blink of an eye.

Yuri calls Deda as soon as he and Potya are settled at Lilia’s place again, curled comfortably beneath a blanket in the cozy bedroom Lilia still refers to as his.

“ _Yurochka_ ,” Deda complains when Yuri breaks the news to him, the low tone of his voice making him sound exactly like the crotchety old man he truly is. “I haven’t even met this JJ yet.”

“Sorry,” Yuri says, expression caught somewhere between a guilty grimace and an amused smile. “I didn’t actually mean to get knocked up this fast.”

Deda responds with a disapproving hum.

“You’ll meet him after Pavel’s birthday. I told you we’d be coming.”

“And how far along will you be then, hmm?”

“You think I know that shit off the top of my head?” Yuri huffs. “Maybe sixteen weeks? Fuck if I know. I haven’t been to a doctor yet. I think I’m five weeks right now, if I count back from… you know, the blood sacrifice.”

“I don’t need to know those things, Yurochka,” Deda informs him for what has to be the hundredth time over the last decade.

Yuri snorts. “What is it with you and Beka, always so fucking squeamish over a little blood?”

Unsurprisingly, Deda changes the subject instead of answering. “So you’ll be showing when I see you.”

“Maybe,” Yuri says. He assumes Deda’s being grouchy because he won’t be able to see Yuri sooner than that. “You know, if you had a cellphone or an iPad, I could be sending you pictures or FaceTiming you until I actually get to visit.”

Deda grumbles unintelligibly, but when they say their goodbyes an hour later, Yuri has a pretty good feeling this will be the very thing that spurs Deda to finally update his technology.

By the time Yuri wakes from a nap that afternoon, he has officially been withdrawn from Worlds, and thanks to Yakov — who really does deserve every gold medal Yuri has ever won — Yuri didn’t have to do a damned thing. He spends the hours before dinner scrolling through the hysteria online, as his fans promptly flip their shit and attempt to figure out why he would not be competing. Most assume he’s suffered some sort of injury, but he does find one tweet — one out of thousands — in which someone asks, “Yuri Plisetsky withdraws from Worlds the week before and the only reason they give is that his doctors have told him to rest? Which doctors? Bone? Heart? Neuro? The baby doctor?”

It receives a grand total of two retweets and nine likes.

Yuri takes a screenshot of it and sends the picture to JJ.

They FaceTime that night, reading some of the more dramatic tweets out loud for their own amusement — even the mean ones, which Yuri occasionally hits “like” on just to fuck with people. JJ laughs so hard he has tears in his eyes, forcing Yuri to bite his lip to the point of pain in order to conceal a smile. When they move on from social media, they talk about random things, not so much making plans as tossing out whatever ideas come to mind as they continue to let the baby news sink in.

“I hope they have your eyes,” JJ says.

Yuri snorts and rolls those eyes, but he doesn’t counter the statement, even if he _does_ hope the baby has JJ’s eyes instead.

JJ doesn’t notice, of course, too busy mulling over everything to pick up on it. “Do you think your boobs will be bigger than mine?”

“Fuck off,” Yuri says, successfully stifling a laugh. “You don’t _have_ boobs. And your nipples are useless.”

“I think you like my useless nipples.”

“I think you should shut the fuck up before I decide to rip one of them off.”

The following day, Lilia has Yuri meet with one of the doctors on their medical staff for a physical, and a blood test to further confirm the pregnancy. The outcome reinforces the reality of the situation, yet it remains a difficult thing for Yuri to believe even with four different positive results at his disposal. He returns home feeling as shocked and disoriented as he did after taking the store bought tests that weekend.

“It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet either,” JJ says when Yuri shares the experience with him. “Maybe once we see the baby, it’ll feel a little more real.”

When they _see_ the baby? Yuri’s brain hasn’t even gotten that far yet. He’s been stuck on the other aspects of a pregnancy — how their off season plans will have to change; how his body will grow; what he’ll do for a career in the meantime; what staying with JJ and Melody will be like. He’s been so distracted with planning and fantasizing and making the initial reveals that he hasn’t even considered what the baby must _look_ like this early on.

That changes, of course, with JJ’s statement. Yuri pulls up the browser on his phone and conducts a search for “fetal development by week.” What he finds is far from thrilling, though close enough to what he would expect after the countless books he’s read on the subject. If his period app is correct about the timing, then the baby looks like nothing more than a fairly grotesque tadpole the size of a sesame seed.

Given that said period app is now as useless as JJ’s nipples, Yuri downloads a pregnancy app in its place. He speeds through the creation of a profile, completely disinterested in his own personal details, skipping through what he can until he’s able to plug in the date of his last period.

 

> _You are 5 weeks and 3 days pregnant._
> 
> _Your estimated due date is 11 November 2023._

“You’ve got your serious face on,” JJ observes.

“The baby’s due on the eleventh of November,” Yuri tells him. “It might overlap with one of your Grand Prix events.”

JJ chuckles. “Obviously I’d withdraw from the event.”

Yuri flicks a glare toward his laptop screen. “No you _won’t_. You’re going to make it to the fucking Final next season.”

Though JJ looks as if he might like to argue, he cuts the debate short by smiling indulgently, and says, “We’ll figure it out when the assignments are released.”

It isn’t the instant agreement Yuri would like, but it’s enough of a compromise that he accepts it for the time being. He can always make an issue out of it later — and with any luck, the baby will come _between_ events. After all, there’s only a one in six chance it’ll actually be a problem.

Before bed that night, once their FaceTime call has ended and Yuri drags himself through the process of brushing his teeth and finalizing his skincare routine, he takes what will be the first of over a hundred baby bump pictures. He stands sideways in front of the mirror, lifts his hoodie and his shirt, and snaps a rather poor excuse for a selfie. There won’t be anything to show for a while, but it pleases him to have the evidence, something to compare future pictures to once his body has developed more.

Yuri spends the rest of that week making a concerted effort to maintain his level of physical activity, while simultaneously embracing a new level of laziness.

He sleeps late every morning, then goes to the training complex to skate laps around the rink or perfect his already impeccable basic skills. Under Yakov’s watchful eye, Yuri restricts his jumps to doubles and singles. He spends his lunches fielding an aggravating number of questions from other skaters about his decision to withdraw from the World Championships, then escapes to the dance studio for a reduced ballet session with Lilia.

Afternoon naps become an everyday occurrence. Yuri curls up on the sofa with Potya and falls asleep with the television on low, while Lilia settles in to work on her memoir. When Yuri wakes, Lilia brings him tea and snacks, and generally pampers him to such a high degree, Yuri begins to wonder where his normally strict ballet coach ran off to.

When he isn’t sleeping, he’s reading another book ( _“Now What? A Collection of Pregnancy Tales By The Underprepared”_ ), or delving into the deep sea of mommy blogs online. Most of the blogs are borderline nausea inducing, painting pregnancy, labor, and delivery as a more beautiful, more magical experience than Yuri suspects it will be. After the seventh obnoxiously sweet “life is perfect, I’m so blessed” birth story, Yuri has convinced himself that he could mommy blog better than any other mommy blogger out there.

He and JJ FaceTime every night that week, as they’ve done since Yuri returned from the European Championships. Their conversations are longer now, even when they have nothing important to discuss. Yuri begins to set an alarm on his phone to signal an end to each call, otherwise JJ would continue to take extended lunch breaks.

“Don’t tell your wife yet,” Yuri says, just as their time is about to run out on Thursday evening.

The brilliant smile JJ has worn for most of the last hour begins to shrink. Hesitance and concern dull the light in his eyes. “I have to tell her at some point.”

“And you will. Just not _yet_ ,” Yuri insists. “I’d like to be happy about this for a while. Can we just… wait until this first part is over?”

He hasn’t told Otabek yet either. He doesn’t plan to for at least a few more weeks — once he determines the best way to do it, or, more than likely, when he simply can’t hide it anymore. Never once has Yuri thought himself a coward, and he refuses to believe the avoidance makes him one now. It’s just that he wants to enjoy this for as long as he can. He doesn’t want to be judged or criticized. He doesn’t want to be made to feel guilty. He doesn’t want to look into Otabek’s eyes, and hear him sigh, and listen to him mumble a lecture about being spiteful and rash.

JJ frowns and makes no point to hide his doubts. Even so, he eventually relents and agrees.

With most of Yuri’s “family” set to fly to Naples for the World Championships early Sunday morning, their weekly Sunday dinner becomes a Saturday lunch instead. And since Yuri won’t be returning to Saint Petersburg until the second week of May, he decides, somewhat grudgingly, to announce his pregnancy before he leaves.

As lacking in sentimentality as Yuri is, he doesn’t make anything special out of it. When they’ve all retired to the living area after their meal, he waits until there’s a pause in conversation and barks, “ _Listen up_!”

Ten pairs of eyes turn to him attentively, most of which contain varying looks of concern, confusion, patience, and amusement — all except Yakov and Lilia, who appear unperturbed.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Yuri continues. “You have one minute to gush and then I don’t want to hear any more of your gross shit.”

“Yura—” Viktor tries to interrupt, but Yuri cuts him off before he can say more.

“You want to know why I dropped out of Worlds?”

Five heads nod. One mouth twitches into a pompous smirk. Lidiya chatters to a large stuffed cat Yuri brought for her, currently disinterested in the conversation going on among the adults. Pavel doesn’t look up from the videos he’s watching on his iPad, but he says, “You said you’re not hurt.”

“No,” Yuri agrees. “I’m pregnant.”

Georgi and Nadya gasp their excitement; Yuri can always depend on them to laud the developments in his love life, even when he doesn’t care for the attention. Yuuri and Kenjirou gape at him, brown eyes wide and mouths hanging open in nearly identical expressions of disbelief. Viktor looks puzzled, like he has no idea how Yuri got himself into this predicament, which just goes to show how much of an idiot he truly is. Vasiliy’s head tips back in a show of boorish laughter. Fortunately, Lilia glares at him so Yuri doesn’t have to.

Pavel drops his iPad and turns to Yuri with a wide smile. “You’re gonna have a baby?”

Yuri nods, and before he can say anything else, he’s inundated with a flurry of hugs and exclamations of joy. Georgi grabs him first, then Nadya (“I knew something was different!” she says. “You must be so excited!”), squeezing the life out of him before Pavel wedges himself between them to take up residence in Yuri’s lap. Kenjirou recovers quicker than Yuuri, jumping up to cheer before giving Yuri several proud pats on the back (“Who’s the slut now?”). Yuuri gapes a while longer — overwhelmed, perhaps, by this second pregnancy announcement in as many weeks.

Viktor must absorb some of Georgi’s and Nadya’s excitement, because the puzzled frown slips off of his face and Yuri’s treated to one of his delighted smiles. Soon, Viktor and Georgi are screaming and blathering on about life and love and family, and the wonders of being a parent, spouting off advice Yuri doesn’t need yet, and asking him questions faster than he can provide answers. Beneath their obnoxious prattle, Nadya can be heard gushing to Lidiya, who makes her way over as soon as she realizes there’s something exciting going on.

“Baby sleepin’,” Lidiya says.

“Yes, Karina’s taking a nap,” Nadya agrees. “But there’s another baby in Yura’s tummy.”

Pavel scooches down to shout at Yuri’s stomach. “Hi, baby!” Glancing back up at Yuri, he asks, “Is it a boy or a girl?”

Yuri fights off an amused smile. “It’s too early to know yet.”

“When will you know?” Pavel whines.

“Probably not until after your birthday.”

Filling one of the armchairs with an insolent sprawl of his long, lean body, Vasiliy continues to laugh as if he’s never heard anything so hilarious in all his life. “It’s good Leroy hasn’t wasted any time domesticating you.”

Yuri turns a murderous glare on him. “I will rip your fucking dick off and shove it down your fucking throat if you make one more garbage comment like that.”

Beside Yuri, Lilia’s expression grows pinched, but it’s difficult to determine if that’s due to Vasiliy’s comment, Yuri’s language, or a combination of the two.

Yuuri breaks into the discussion before the disagreement can escalate. “And you and JJ have talked about this?”

There’s that concern in his scent again, even stronger that it’s been as of late. Yuri would attempt to free him of it if he didn’t already know it would be a futile effort. Ceaseless worry seems to be Yuuri’s lot in life. It would be annoying if Yuri wasn’t used to it by now.

“We’ve been talking about it for months,” Yuri says.

“You _planned_ this?” Yuuri gapes again.

Yuri shrugs, then wraps an arm around Pavel when Pavel lifts himself away from Yuri’s stomach. “More or less.”

“You haven’t even been dating that long!”

“If you want to lecture someone about rushing into things, why don’t you go FaceTime Phichit again. Unlike him, I actually know what I’m doing.”

When Yuuri has no response to that, Nadya asks, “How far along are you?”

“Today makes six weeks.”

And from the pictures he’s seen, the baby still looks like some sort of extraterrestrial tadpole creature, so miniscule it seems hard to believe that it actually exists.

“Is JJ excited?” Kenjirou asks.

Yuri rolls his eyes and complains, “He’s acting way too fucking smug about it.”

Vasiliy snorts but, perhaps in the interest of protecting his repulsive alpha dick, decides to make no further comment on the matter.

Lidiya trots over to point at Yuri’s stomach. “A baby in there?”

When Yuri nods, she stands between his legs and drapes herself over his lap to press her ear to his stomach. A moment later, she shrieks with laughter when she listens to his stomach gurgle.

Beside Yuri, Pavel frowns pensively and asks, “Will we get to see the baby when you’re away?”

Yuri chest seizes painfully. He’s been doing well so far, coming to terms with the impending separation with less despair than he expected, though that will likely change after the first few weeks away. Right now, when he has this pregnancy to be happy about, and JJ’s presence to look forward to, it’s easy to imagine the move halfway around the world won’t be as difficult as he once thought.

Looking into Pavel’s face, with Lidiya crowding into his lap, a sense of homesickness looms right on the edge of Yuri’s happiness, threatening to overtake it.

“You can come visit,” Yuri says. It’s a reassurance for himself as much as it is for Pavel. “I can visit, too. I’ll send pictures every day. You can save them on your iPad. And we can FaceTime as much as you want.”

Pavel doesn’t look convinced. He snuggles into Yuri’s side and wraps his arms around Yuri’s chest in a close embrace. Lilia reaches a hand out to run comforting fingers over Pavel’s dark hair, while Yuri rubs his back and tries to determine how best to soothe him.

Viktor interrupts before Yuri can do so. “You’ll finally get some weight on you.”

Admonishingly, Yakov grumbles, “ _Vitya_ ,” while Lilia’s tongue clicks disapprovingly. Yuuri puts a cautioning hand on Viktor’s arm.

“What?” Viktor blinks cluelessly. “He’s too skinny. Even the physicians say so.”

It’s a lucky thing Yuuri is so quick to answer, otherwise Yuri might have bitten Viktor’s head off. “Vitya, some people are naturally thin.”

“To the point of being consistently underweight?”

“ _Yes_ , you dumb fuck,” Yuri snarls. Pavel and Lidiya stare between them with innocent curiosity.

“It’s a legitimate concern,” Viktor smoothly argues. “Especially now that you’re pregnant.”

“You see how much I eat. You’re a fucking moron if you think I haven’t been taking care of myself.”

Few others would have the audacity to make such comments with Lilia and Nadya, two career ballerinas, one of whom has already birthed two healthy children, sitting in their midst, but Viktor has never been one to shy away from blunt observations, particularly when those observations pertain to Yuri, who he has always been more critical of.

“You might lose more weight if the morning sickness is bad.”

“Vitya,” Yuuri tries to dissuade him again, “Yura’s probably already considered all of this.”

“I just want to make sure his weight doesn’t cause any complications,” Viktor counters.

Peaceably, Nadya says, “He’s healthy and physically fit. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

It’s a much nicer end to a sensitive topic than Yuri could ever accomplish on his own. Without it, there would have been yelling and swearing on Yuri’s part. He could already feel it building. Even when Viktor backs down, Yuri’s tempted to give into the impulse to say something snide, maybe by cruelly reminding Viktor of the complications that led to Karina’s premature birth. Yuri would have done it, gleefully, if the idea of using Karina as a weapon didn’t arouse so much guilt.

The mingling of scents in the room has gone sour. Yuri’s sure his own scent is to blame for most of it, though neither Yakov nor Lilia seem pleased, and Yuuri’s scent remains at its frequent high level of caution and concern. Yuri expects they’ll all harass Viktor about his insensitivity later. Not that a lecture will change anything. Yuri responds to reprimands with irritation; with Viktor, they always go in one ear and out the other.

Nadya distracts Yuri with more questions. (“How did you find out? When did you tell JJ? How did your grandfather react? Have you told anyone else yet? How are you feeling?”) Yuri grumbles his answers while the aggravation is slow to fade. He’s almost hit the limit of how long he can tolerate being the center of attention. Luckily, Nadya is both perceptive and kind. When she can tell Yuri’s patience and enthusiasm have waned, she begins to reminisce about both of her pregnancies, pulling Georgi into stories about strange cravings and ridiculous mood swings.

Yuri is the first to leave that afternoon. He takes his time saying his goodbyes, hugging Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina in turn, and taking the last few pictures before he’ll no longer have the opportunity to do so.

“Be good,” he tells the older two. To Pavel, he adds, “I want to see videos of you skating. Just because I’ll be gone for a while doesn’t mean you can slack off.”

Parting is as difficult as he anticipated it would be. Sheer stubbornness is all that keeps the tears at bay. Once he’s pulled himself away, Yuri stops by his apartment to pack what clothes he hasn’t already brought to Lilia’s. He’ll have to clean out the entire apartment the next time he’s in town, but for now he takes only as much as he’ll need for a month in Montreal.

Once he’s back at Lilia’s, Yuri lets himself sulk. He drops onto the couch and cuddles with Potya, puttering around on his phone while Lilia engages in more of her uncharacteristic pampering. Unfortunately, there isn’t a suitable diversion until later that evening, when JJ FaceTimes during a layover in Rome.

“How was telling everyone?” JJ asks, once Yuri has finished interrogating him about the flight. Melody reclines back against his chest, lips parted as she naps.

“Fine, I guess,” Yuri says, lazing around in his bedroom for privacy. “Except Viktor was a fucking dick about it.”

“Why?”

“He kept going on and on about how I’m too skinny.”

JJ’s resulting laugh is short with disbelief, and only partially amused. “If you’re too anything, you’re too beautiful.”

Yuri groans, rolling into a pillow to hide his face. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Yuri trails off and makes a vague motion with one of his hands, waving it around ineffectually.

JJ snickers. “Do I make your bitter little heart flutter?”

“No,” Yuri growls.

 _Yes_. Damn it, _yes_ , JJ’s gross shit makes his heart do somersaults. Yuri’s chest tightens with longing. He wants to kiss JJ’s stupid face, and stroke his stupid beard, and sleep on his stupid chest. He wants to hold JJ’s dumb hand, and listen to his dumb voice, and sit on his dumb cock. He wants this season over and done with, so they can go be sickeningly domestic together in Montreal. He wants to drag JJ to Moscow to shove him in front of Deda and say, “This is my big, dumb boyfriend who says nasty, sappy shit all the time, but for some reason I really like him, so try not to be such a judgmental grouch around him.”

Yuri turns his head enough to peek at his laptop screen with one eye. JJ is smugly grinning, and even though a part of Yuri wants to smack that look right off of his face, he still has no idea how he’s supposed to survive eighteen more hours before he can touch him again. Yuri thinks it says a lot about his level of self-discipline that he didn’t jump on the next plane out of Saint Petersburg as soon as he withdrew from Worlds.

“You disgust me,” Yuri sneers.

JJ’s grin doesn’t falter. “You’re still going to fall in love with me.”

Yuri wants to deny it, but all he can do is roll his eyes and muffle another groan into his pillow.

Damn that man to hell, but Yuri might already be well on his way.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri curled up in a chair in the airport, his mouth hanging open as he sleeps with his head against Lilia’s shoulder.]

**18,156 likes**

**v-orlov** @yuri_plisetsky at his finest #catnaps #teamrussia #2023worlds

 **v-nikiforov** Sweet sleepy kitten!!!  
**phichit+chu** TOO CUTE!!!!  
**mila-babicheva** Omg is he drooling???  
**v-orlov** @mila-babicheva Yup  
**nadya_polunina** Poor Yura! Get that boy to bed once you get to Naples!  
**yuri_plisetsky** I. am going. to KILL YOU.  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Are you hungover???  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva NO. Why do you always ask that????  
**mila-babicheva** @yuri_plisetsky Because you’re looking rough these days. You been hitting that booze when the long distance gets too bad?  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva I AM NOT HUNGOVER  
**v-orlov** @yuri_plisetsky @mila-babicheva Based on his mood he’s definitely overdue to get fucked though  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @v-orlov YOU’RE DEAD AS SOON AS I GET MY HANDS ON YOU

MARCH 19

* * *

Up until now, the nausea has been bearable — more of a background symptom compared to the ceaseless fatigue and the relentless aching of his chest. When it _did_ rear its ugly head, it could be settled easily enough with a bland snack and some ginger tea.

That changes, almost without warning, during their travels to Naples.

Yuri wakes up late that morning, as he has too often recently, with barely enough time to pull his clothes on before Lilia’s ushering him out of the door. He’s delirious with fatigue and skips breakfast on their way to the airport. Before they find empty seats near their gate, Yuri is practically tripping over his own feet. He folds himself into a chair between Yakov and Lilia, and proceeds to pass the time dozing against Lilia’s shoulder, grateful for her presence, though as Yuri won’t be competing, his coaches’ decision to accompany him has more to do with visiting Mila than it does the World Championships.

Their first flight departs at 6:00am. Yuri sleeps for the entire fifty-five minutes of it, waking only when Lilia nudges him once they’ve made their descent into Helsinki. He spends the near two hour layover sprawled over another seat in the terminal, but he’s more conscious this time and finds it difficult to ignore the rapidly developing discomforts.

There’s his chest, of course. Not only do his nipples ache, but his entire pectoral region has become increasingly sore over the last week, slightly swollen now as his breasts begin to grow, the faint veins beneath his pale skin somewhat more visible than before. There’s the bloating, too, which soon has Yuri regretting the decision to wear jeans instead of leggings. He won’t truly start to show for several more weeks at least, but it’s easy to overlook that common sense when the waist of his jeans feels uncomfortably tight. Yuri discreetly unbuttons them, satisfied in the knowledge that JJ’s hoodie is long enough on him to cover it.

Yet it’s the nausea that hits him the hardest that day. Yuri spends the entirely of the flight from Helsinki to Naples struggling not to throw up. His empty stomach surely doesn’t help matters, but nibbling on crackers and drinking enough water to rehydrate accomplishes nothing more than creating an urgent need to pee, followed by a perilous trip to the bathroom. As the bathroom is both small and absolutely disgusting, courtesy of it existing on an airplane, Yuri’s journey to relieve himself ends with him heaving over the tiny sink. Though he expels nothing, the sensation is no less revolting than if he had. Yuri gags repeatedly, then convulsively swallows. After stumbling back to his seat, he searches for a barf bag and clutches it in his lap for the rest of the flight.

The mix of scents in the air is worse than ever before. Yuri turns into LIlia beside him and breathes deep in a desperate attempt to drown out all the rest. She must be able to sense his misery, because she reduces her usual rigid control over her scent and lets it wash over him. Even with it serving as a protective bubble, Yuri can’t escape the fetid cloud around them. By the time they arrive in Naples, his head is pounding, and he thinks the next whiff of sickly nervousness or sharp frustration might just lead to him using the barf bag for the first time in his life.

He trips his way off of the plane, relinquishing his carry-on bag to Yuuri, whose concern is smothering but not as noxious as a majority of the scents around them. Waiting for the rest of their luggage is another torturous affair; Yuri allows the others to retrieve his suitcases, too weary and uncomfortable to reject the role of the invalid.

“Sweetpea!”

They’re making their way to the shuttle transport when Yuri hears it. Drained as he may feel at the moment, he still freezes in place and whips his head around while he locates the source.

JJ’s there, perhaps four or five meters away, his height ensuring that he’s easily visible through the crowd. He must notice Yuri’s surprise, because that smug, lopsided grin of his quickly settles into place as he lifts a hand to wave.

Yuri doesn’t run, but he covers the distance between them too fast to have walked, and while he doesn’t exactly jump into JJ’s arms, he collapses against him as soon as he’s close enough, cinching his arms around JJ’s torso while pressing his face into the side of JJ’s neck. Yuri makes no attempt to disguise his deep inhale, or the relaxing of his body immediately after.

It has to be purely psychological, how some of the discomfort eases as soon as he has JJ’s scent in his lungs, but given how trying the morning has been so far, Yuri doesn’t care to concern himself with it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yuri grumbles.

“I couldn’t wait to see you,” JJ says, one arm tight around Yuri, the other loose, his hand sinking into long blond hair, holding Yuri’s head in place while he presses impatient kisses to every available part of Yuri’s face.

“Where’s Melody?” Yuri asks.

“Back at the hotel with my parents. I wanted both arms free so I could do this.”

JJ lifts Yuri off of his feet, hoisting him up until Yuri has no choice but to angle his head down to look into JJ’s eyes. Yuri scrambles for purchase, throwing his arms over JJ’s shoulders to brace himself. JJ chuckles at the look of surprise on Yuri’s face, though considering JJ seems a bit giddy with excitement, the airy laughter sounds more like a giggle.

He looks so _gorgeous_ , bright eyed and animated, healthy and strong, dressed in dark blue jeans and a green long-sleeved t-shirt, with his hair perfectly styled and his sunglasses perched on top his head. The longing Yuri grew so painfully familiar with during their separation immediately gives way, not to relief as he would have expected, but to _pride_.

 _Mine_ , Yuri thinks. _All mine_.

Jean-Jacques Leroy, with the arrogant smiles and obnoxious behavior, with the sugary pet names and endless flattery, with the generous heart and tireless spirit, is _his_.

JJ, who responds to Yuri’s sass and greed with delight. JJ, who never tries to limit Yuri’s ferocious nature. JJ, who appreciates Yuri’s tenderness without expecting to receive it. JJ, who rides the waves of Yuri’s fluctuating moods with patience and understanding. JJ, who respects and adores him for who he is, rather than who the world would like him to be.

This irritatingly sexy, wildly successful, and utterly brilliant man could have anyone in the world, but it’s Yuri he lifts into his arms. It’s Yuri whose eyes he stares into with so much affection. It’s Yuri he wants in his life — in his bed, in his home, and with his daughter.

And Yuri has never before felt as smug as he does in that moment, with a watchful, admiring crowd around them, completely unaware of the tiny Leroy currently residing in his womb.

Yuri plants his hands on either side of JJ’s face and kisses him.

“I missed you,” JJ breathes into his mouth. He unwinds an arm and lifts his hand, pushing Yuri’s hair out of the way.

With a groan, Yuri sucks on JJ’s bottom lip, running his tongue along the flesh as he holds it in his mouth.

They kiss with more energy than they usually reserve for public displays, parting only when Yakov very pointedly clears his throat.

Even when he’s back on his feet, Yuri refuses to let go. He settles into JJ’s side with an arm around JJ’s waist, tipping his head to rest his temple against JJ’s jaw while JJ offers both Lilia and Yakov a polite greeting, shaking each of their hands in turn. With JJ’s arm wound around his shoulders, Yuri follows behind the others as they pile into a shuttle.

“How are you feeling?” JJ murmurs against Yuri’s hair.

“Like shit,” Yuri complains.

JJ chuckles again and presses a kiss to Yuri’s ear. “I’m sorry.”

Yuri responds with a low hum.

Neither of them seem capable of keeping their hands to themselves. Yuri puts a proprietary hand against JJ’s thigh as soon as they sit down. JJ’s arm remains curled around Yuri’s shoulders; he slides his fingers down Yuri’s arm, pausing to stroke a thumb against Yuri’s tattoo, before lifting his hand away to play with Yuri’s hair. Yuri nips at JJ’s jaw and catches his lips whenever JJ looks at him — which is a frequent occurrence even with JJ participating in the conversation taking place around them.

There are fans everywhere when they arrive at the hotel — some waiting outside, some lingering around the lobby. Yuri expects JJ to stop and greet them all, with photos and autographs for those that request them, but JJ does nothing more than grin and wave, arm still securely around Yuri as they make their way inside.

Yuri takes to their room with the comfort and familiarity of the well-traveled. He kicks off his shoes and drops onto the bed while JJ takes care of the luggage, staring listlessly at some of Melody’s toys scattered over the floor until JJ climbs up to join him.

Again, JJ mumbles against his lips, “Missed you.”

While Yuri might not verbally respond, the greedy clutch of his hands gets the point across just as well.

They undress one another between long, languid kisses. JJ’s shirt is the first to go, dislodging his sunglasses in the process. Yuri makes an eager exploration of JJ’s chest and shoulders while JJ quickly shimmies out of his jeans. Tender hands tug down Yuri’s fly before sliding Yuri’s jeans and underwear off together.

Yuri’s legs fall open without further encouragement. JJ settles between them, fingers diving beneath Yuri’s shirt and hoodie, caressing his stomach before skimming up his chest.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yuri hisses, wrenching away from the touch. “Watch it.”

JJ lets out another one of those breathless giggles, peppering kisses along Yuri’s neck. “Sore?”

Yuri groans affirmatively.

With diligence and care, JJ pulls the remainder of Yuri’s clothing over his head. Then he hovers above him, heated gaze raking down Yuri’s body, from his eyes to his puffy chest, from the flat expanse of his abdomen to his cock, already hard with interest. JJ leans close and kisses a slow trail down Yuri’s neck, pausing to suck a mark into the crook. He laps at the hollow between Yuri’s collarbones, and though JJ makes a point to avoid Yuri’s oversensitive nipples, he presses his mouth over Yuri’s heart before following the path of his sternum.

Down at Yuri’s navel, JJ breathes, “You’re beautiful.”

A soft, appreciative moan works its way out of Yuri’s throat. His fingers sink into JJ’s hair, cradling his head.

JJ nibbles at the skin of Yuri’s stomach, hands smoothing over Yuri’s thighs and hips. He takes Yuri’s cock into his mouth for a gentle suck, pulling off to kiss the tip as Yuri writhes beneath him.

“I want you,” JJ says.

Yuri’s legs drift further apart as he sighs out an ardent, “ _Yes_ …”

“You feel up to it?”

“ _Fuck, yes_.” Yuri nods vigorously. His hands tighten in JJ’s hair. “I’m just… I’ll just lie here. Don’t stick your dick in my mouth unless you want me to throw up on you.”

JJ’s breath ghosts over Yuri’s pelvis as he laughs, earning another moan and an impatient jerk of the hips.

They fuck slowly — a blend of ravenous mouths and tender hands, deep moans and whispered affections. Yuri arches and clings to JJ’s back, tucking his face against JJ’s jaw as he listens to JJ’s guttural chanting of “Baby… _Baby_...”

It isn’t filthy or wild, it isn’t desperate or impatient, but it’s heavy with desire all the same. Yuri comes with JJ’s knot tight inside of him, as JJ shivers and grinds through an orgasm, gasping sentimental nonsense into Yuri’s ear. Yuri holds him close as they gradually drift down from their respective highs, taking pleasure in each tremor he feels though JJ’s body, as well as the open vulnerability in those beautiful eyes.

After, when they can shift apart, JJ cleans them up and helps Yuri into more comfortable clothes. He orders food from room service for them to eat in bed. Then, when Yuri’s nausea eases with the help of a full stomach, JJ pulls enough clothes on to fetch Melody from his parents. After he returns with her, he passes her to Yuri and soon as she reaches for him, smiling contentedly.

“What are you hoping for?” JJ asks a while later, as they lie in bed with Melody blinking tiredly between him. “A boy or a girl?”

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t know. I always thought about having a boy, but…” He trails off and strokes soothing fingers over Melody’s hair.

“I knew Mel would be a girl,” JJ says. “The entire time. I just had this gut feeling.”

“What does your gut say this time?”

JJ reaches across Melody and tucks some of Yuri’s hair behind his ear. “A boy.”

Sated and warm, and happier than he’s been in quite some time, Yuri is powerless to stop the slow spread of a smile across his face. “Alpha or omega?”

“That I’m less sure of. I’m leaning toward omega, but I guessed alpha for Mel and was wrong on that.”

“So an alpha boy, then,” Yuri says.

“Assuming the accuracy of my predictions are the same as last time,” JJ agrees.

“We’d break the omega girl streak, if Seung-gil or your brother don’t do it first.”

JJ grins. “Knowing you, you’ll have an alpha boy out of spite.”

Yuri snorts a quiet laugh against the smooth skin of Melody’s forehead.

He naps with her that afternoon, curled up in the wide bed while JJ sits beside them answering emails on his tablet. They’ll have more to do that evening — more fans to greet, more interviews to give, more friends to see, more news to share when they make their way to Mila’s and Sara’s place for dinner — and the week that follows will be full of activity and excitement, like competitions used to be before pregnancies and retirements dwindled their numbers. They’ll share dinners with Lilia, Yakov, and JJ’s parents. They’ll join Guang Hong, Leo, and Luna on outings to local tourist attractions. They’ll savor the time with their friends, before the competition ends and they all go their separate ways again.

But for now, with JJ’s scent surrounding him, and Melody asleep on his shoulder, Yuri puts a hand to his stomach and basks in contentment.

If quiet moments like this are what life has in store for him from here on out, Yuri can’t find a single reason to complain.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri and Melody curled up in bed together. Both of them are fast asleep.]

**100,213 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** My angels ❤ ❤ ❤ #naptime #beautiful #sweet #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl #myyuri #sweetpea #babydoll #sugarplum #blessed #bestlife #worlds2023

 **+guanghongji+** SOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE!!!!  
**Jjleroy!15** @+guanghongji+ My heart can hardly take it  
**mila-babicheva** Is this what you guys are doing instead of visiting me??  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva We’ll be heading over as soon as they wake up I promise  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 Get those lips ready hot stuff  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 If you kiss my boyfriend I will shove my tongue down your wife’s throat  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky That could be hot  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 EW  
**phichit+chu** Ahhhh so precious!! It’s good to see they’re getting along so well!  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu They’re like two peas in a pod  
**v-orlov** I don’t see Yuri busting your ass for taking a pic of him while he’s sleeping  
**yuri_plisetsky** @v-orlov I don’t hate him and also he gets boyfriend privileges

MARCH 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri originally wasn’t going to get pregnant this soon, but between comments and two beautiful pieces of baby bump art, I got really excited, and I had a lot of fun watching as people realized I made no mention of condoms or birth control while Yuri and JJ were together last chapter, so… TADA!
> 
> Now, do you think the baby will be a boy or a girl, an alpha or an omega? Place your bets in the comments!
> 
> One last thing: as a warning, I may be switching back to Cast Me Gently for a while now. I feel like I keep saying then and then not doing it, but I really want to get to Yuri and JJ’s first kiss in that fic, preferably before the end of 2018.


	7. More Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri settles in Montreal. Sex and a lot of fluff occurs. They're very happy together. It's kind of gross.

"Now that I've tried to talk to you and make you understand,  
All you have to do is close your eyes and just reach out your hands,  
And touch me — hold me close, don't ever let me go!  
More than words is all I ever needed you to show;  
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me,  
'Cause I'd already know."

\- ["More Than Words" by Extreme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nOtd-d_ENI)

* * *

 

 

> **The Tiger’s Den**
> 
> Home        [About](https://i.imgur.com/ed7Svya.png)         Cats         Personal         Yurochka
> 
> **This blog had a clear purpose at one point...**
> 
> POSTED 25 MARCH 2023
> 
> This last month has been one breaking news story after another.
> 
> First, the Phichit Chulanont/Seung-gil Lee drama. As expected, Phichit and girlfriend Phailin Suttirat have broken things off. No word yet on whether Phichit and Seung-gil are actually together, but I suspect they aren’t.
> 
> Second, Yurochka withdrew from the World Championships. No further explanation has been offered as of this post. This marks the first time he hasn’t stood on the World podium since 2017.
> 
> Third, our darling Jerk Jackass Loser came back from a disappointing first half of the season to win his fifth World gold, and his sixth World medal overall. (I should stop calling him Jerk Jackass Loser, but at this point it’s habit. Sorry not sorry.) On that note, wasn’t it fucking awesome to see three veterans on the World podium this year? Congrats to both Emil Nekola and Leo de la Iglesia on their silver and bronze medals. Show all of those newbs how it’s done.
> 
> But now, _this_ tragedy has befallen us:
> 
> [A link to a news article with a headline that reads “Russia’s Yuri Plisetsky To Sit Out 2023-2024 Season.”]
> 
> I’m still reeling.
> 
> What’s going on?
> 
> What am I supposed to do with myself??
> 
> How will my blog survive without Yurochka???
> 
> How will _I_ survive without Yurochka????
> 
> What even is the point anymore????????
> 
> Is this a sign? Is it time to reconsider my life’s purpose?
> 
> I don’t know. Recently, I’ve been thinking about taking this blog in a slightly different direction. Maybe I should use next season as an opportunity to test it out…
> 
> TAGGED: Yurochka News

* * *

 

[Two photos, both of which are group shots. The first shows the canon characters as they were at the 2016 World Championship banquet, with that year’s medalists, JJ, Yuuri, and Viktor, standing in the center with the rest of the group surrounding them. The only three not smiling are Otabek, who remains stoic, and Yuri and Seung-gil, who seem to be having a “who has the bitchiest resting bitch face” competition. Seung-gil is winning, as Yuri seems rather comfortable standing next to Otabek.

The second picture features the canon characters who were present at the 2023 World Championships (all but Viktor, Georgi, Otabek, and Phichit), either as competitors, coaches, or emotional support/family. Standing at the center again are this year’s winners, JJ with Yuri and Melody, Emil with Mickey, and Leo with Guang Hong and Luna. Most of the group looks delighted to be together, except Seung-gil, whose resting bitch face remains in tact. For once, Yuri graces the camera with a smile.]

**121,537 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** A lot has changed since 2016, but I’m no less grateful to be able to call these people my friends! What an amazing week! #napoli2023 #worlds2023 #worldchampions #friends #family #blessed #livingmybestlife

 **phichit+chu** So proud of all my besties!!! Also once again devastated that there was such a large reunion without me. :(  
**Jjleroy!15** @phichit+chu Won’t one of your kids be on the senior circuit next season?  
**phichit+chu** @Jjleroy!15 YEEESSSSSSSSSSS GET READY BITCHES!!!!  
**+guanghongji+** LOOK AT OUR HANDSOME MEDALISTS!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Jjleroy!15** @+guanghongji+ ;D  
**sophie_leroy00** I’m still trying to figure out how it is that you guys became the popular crowd  
**Jjleroy!15** @sophie_leroy00 Our stunning good looks and brilliant personalities  
**nadya_polunina** Congratulations! You were phenomenal! Pavel continues to demand that you teach him the quad lutz!  
**Jjleroy!15** @nadya_polunina I like his ambition  
**nadya_polunina** @Jjleroy!15 I’d like to say he gets its from both me and Georgi but it’s probably more likely that he gets it from Yura  
**yuri_plisetsky** @nadya_polunina @Jjleroy!15 That’s my boy :)

MARCH 26

* * *

“Since when have you had a _blog_?”

Sophie has been suspicious all week.

Even if Yuri couldn’t detect it in her scent, he would notice it in her behavior. She stares at him too long. Every time he makes any sign of discomfort, her eyes are on him, studying his face, observing the motion of his hands. Whenever he gets up to go to the bathroom, there she is, watching him like a hawk. She tailed him once at the airport in Naples, and while she couldn’t follow him in, she had a piercing look in her eye when she asked him “Are you okay?” after, like she thought he might confide in her if she showed him some concern.

As if he would ever trust _her_ to keep a secret from her family after she’s already confessed to blabbing once before.

He catches her on her phone sometimes, aggressively texting Mila, digging for leads and glowering when Mila doesn’t give her any. Mila has been sworn to silence, but she takes pleasure in taunting her friends with the prospect of juicy gossip. Sophie _knows_ that Mila knows something, she simply doesn’t know what that something is yet.

“Since I was sixteen,” Yuri replies.

They’re in Munich for a layover, sitting near their gate with Starbucks in hand, because herbal tea and a lemon yogurt parfait were the only things Yuri felt he could stomach. Nathalie and Alain went with Charlie and Maddie to find more substantial food about twenty minutes ago, leaving Yuri, JJ, and Melody alone, at least until Sophie decided to grace them with her presence.

“How did I not know you have a blog?” she asks.

“Because I run it under a fake name.”

Yuri pulls up the blog on his phone and shows it to her, hoping its existence will be enough to distract her.

She peers at the screen, then takes his phone from him to get a closer look. “Oh my God, I used to read this!”

“Used to?”

“Yeah, back when I thought you were cool.”

Offended, Yuri frowns at her and snatches his phone away.

Sophie snickers and leans into his personal space to get another look at the screen. “Then I spent time around you and realized you’re actually really boring. Plus, this Yulia person kept trash talking JJ, and I’m the only one who’s allowed to trash talk JJ.”

On Yuri’s other side, JJ cheerfully says, “I feel so loved!”

Sophie reaches around Yuri to shove at JJ’s shoulder, then tries to wrestle Yuri’s phone back. “So, wait, you’re saying _you’re_ Yulia?”

At the same time, JJ asks, “You wrote about me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Yuri growls. He leans away from Sophie and digs a sharp elbow into one of her boobs when she gets too close. “Get out of my face, you evil bitch.”

Sophie tsks but stops trying to fight him. She collapses back into her chair and takes a moody sip of her iced mocha. “So you’ve spent the last seven years pretending to be your own fan? _God_ , you’re so full of yourself, you _would_ do something like that.”

“Fuck off.”

JJ steals a glance at Yuri’s phone while the screen is in view. “What did you write about me?”

“Here, trade me.” Yuri takes JJ’s half finished coffee and replaces it with his phone. “Look through the Jerk Jackass Loser tag.”

“Oooo, I even get my own tag!” JJ says with a delighted grin.

“Does anyone else know you’ve been doing this?” Sophie asks.

“Just Deda,” Yuri says. He spares her a very significant look when he adds, “And Mila.”

Sophie’s olive green gaze gleams with suspicion. “How long has she known?”

“Since I started it.”

“ _What_?!” The volume of Sophie’s voice edges toward a shriek. “That bitch knew you were running a blog this whole time and she didn’t tell me?!”

Yuri snorts. His mouth curls into a satisfied smirk. “She’s loyal when she wants to be.”

“Do you ever write about her?!”

“All the time. She thinks it’s funny.”

“Do you ever write about _me_?!”

“Not recently.”

Sophie makes a disgusted sound in the back of her throat and pulls out her phone to begin furiously typing another text to Mila.

“Babe, this is hilarious,” JJ says. He has Yuri’s phone in one hand. The other holds Melody upright while he bounces her in his lap.

Melody gurgles, drooling all over a stuffed bunny rabbit.

Yuri rolls his eyes and makes an effort to stop his smirk from widening by biting at the corner of his lip. He _knew_ JJ would enjoy the posts about him, the vain prick. No doubt he’s very pleased to know Yuri used to spend so much time ranting about him.

“I think you were obsessed with me,” JJ continues, tossing a smug grin in Yuri’s direction.

Before Yuri can retaliate, Sophie asks, “Are you ever going to out yourself?”

Yuri shrugs carelessly. “Probably now that I’m on hiatus.”

“Better warn your coaches and your PR people first,” Sophie says, which earns a wince from Yuri.

JJ asks, “Seven years and no one’s realized this is you?”

“No. If I wrote about personal things, I made up different relations and changed the names and dates and locations. People don’t know a lot about me anyway. It’s not like I give revealing interviews.”

“Most of this is in English,” JJ observes.

“I thought I’d reach a wider audience that way,” Yuri says. “Whenever I wrote a post in Russian, I always provided a translation. It was good practice.”

JJ’s smile warms as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “You amaze me.”

“So you’ve said.” Yuri tries very hard not to look too pleased about it as he kisses JJ back.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Sophie scoffs. “You two make me _sick_. How are you so sweet together when you’re both such arrogant douchebags? I swear to God, you should save us all some time and misery and just go elope.”

JJ laughs. Yuri sticks his tongue out in revulsion.

Sophie seems sufficiently distracted, at least. She’s still texting Mila, frowning down at her phone as her fingers fly over the screen. If Yuri peers closely enough, he can see an abundance of caps-locked text and angry emojis.

Satisfied that he’s bought himself a little more time, Yuri turns away to curl closer to JJ and Melody. JJ continues to scroll through one blog post after another, his smile and his scent growing progressively more amused as he does so. Yuri makes no move to stop him, more concerned with getting some rest than he is with preserving any of the pride he might have left.

If Yuri felt like shit on the way to Naples, then now he feels as close to death as he’s ever been.

As far as he’s concerned, the term “morning sickness” should be discarded and replaced with something more accurate. He wakes up nauseous, and then spends the entirety of his day struggling not to throw up. He goes to sleep nauseous, and then alternates between relieving his bladder and gagging over the toilet bowl every time he wakes up during the night to pee. Hardly anything seems appetizing to him anymore. He’s spent the last week surviving on little more than crackers, pretzels, fruit, and raw vegetables, with as much water and soothing herbal tea as his bladder can hold between frequent trips to the bathroom.

The fatigue continues to kick his ass, leading to persistent dark circles beneath his eyes, and a sluggish gait he’s taken to hiding by walking close to JJ with an arm slung around his waist. He’s given up on a scheduled bedtime, choosing instead to drop into bed and pass out as soon as he no longer has the energy to keep his eyes open, which tends to occur soon after dinner each evening. During the day, Yuri joins Melody for her morning and afternoon naps, curling around her protectively and only returning to consciousness when she yanks on his hair, or when JJ carefully pulls her out of his arms after she wakes — whichever happens first.

That isn’t even counting the more minor symptoms, of which there are many. He’s been sporting so many pimples recently, he’s taken to digging through his makeup case more often before showing his face in public. He has recurring headaches, but no decent medication to take care of them. He’s congested enough that several people have commented on his health in recent days. He’s still not showing yet, but the bloating is so bad he hasn’t bothered with jeans since he got to Naples, switching between sweatpants and leggings depending on what the plans are for any given day. And in just the last week alone, his growing breasts have swollen up enough that he’s begun to consider whether or not it’s too early to start wearing a sports bra. If they keep developing at their current rate, they’ll be noticeable to other people even before his stomach will be.

All of these inconveniences ensure that the eight and a half hour flight from Munich to Montreal is an absolutely _miserable_ experience.

He has to use the toilet so often, he soon gives up his window seat to JJ and Melody in favor of sitting on the aisle. Unlike previous flights, being close to the bathroom is more of a benefit than an annoyance; he and JJ are seated only four rows back from it, so Yuri doesn’t have to go far. Unfortunately, the unpleasant smell and the sense of claustrophobia the bathroom tends to induce further aggravate the nausea, which means Yuri throws up multiple times during the flight.

When he’s actually able to recline in his seat instead of fighting not to be sick, finding a comfortable position in which to sleep proves to be impossible, due in part to the fluctuating temperature. If it’s not too hot, it’s too cold. One minute, Yuri’s wrapped in a blanket for warmth. The next, he’s shoving it off for half an hour, complaining of the unbearable heat before his body decides to be a finicky bitch, and suddenly it’s too cold again.

At least he isn’t sitting beside some stranger, so he can lift the armrest between the seats and lean against JJ as much as he wants.

“I think Sophie suspects,” Yuri mumbles to him while JJ searches the monitor on the seat in front of him for something at least mildly entertaining to watch.

“Do you want to tell her?” JJ asks.

“Fuck no. She’ll tell your entire family before we’re ready.”

JJ shows him an indulgent smile. “We don’t have to surprise them, you know.”

Yuri rejects the comment with a scoff. “But you _want_ to.”

And while Yuri might not often care what other people want, there is a part of him — strange in its newness — that wants to indulge JJ for once.

They end up watching some dumb romantic comedy Yuri can’t remember the title of, but then it doesn’t matter, because every romantic comedy he’s ever suffered through has been more or less the same. There’s a quirky protagonist and a scruffy love interest, followed by an hour and a half of hijinks that leads to a misunderstanding which is ultimately resolved with an exchange of “I love you”s. Yuri doesn’t even have to pay attention to the whole thing in order to follow along. He zones outs repeatedly, and the plot is so predictable, he doesn’t feel as if he’s missed anything when he finally zones back in.

Melody spends most of the flight in JJ’s lap, playing with a supply of new toys JJ set aside to keep her entertained. She bounces when she gets bored of them, or babbles through silly conversations with JJ. He tickles her when there are no other distractions, then sings songs and plays hand games that keep a wide smile on her face. She’s content enough, for the most part, crying only when she starts to get hungry. After she’s fed, JJ puts on another movie — an animated one this time, which fascinates Melody for a good forty-five minutes, though she would much rather chew on the headphones than keep them on her head.

The sun has just set when they arrive in Montreal. Between collecting all of their things, the considerable fatigue that has Yuri struggling to remain awake, and a deeply sleeping baby, disembarking is a much slower process than usual. Yuri expects making their way through customs after will be an aggravating affair, but he gets through the first inspection with relative ease. He almost wonders if being with JJ has anything to do with it. All JJ has to do is smile brightly and speak in that cordial way he often talks to people when out in public, and every potential inconvenience suddenly gets taken care of without a fuss.

While the others wait for their luggage at baggage claim, Yuri takes a seat and cradles Melody against his shoulder.

“Sweetheart…” Nathalie says, her voice soft with concern. “Are you alright?”

She brings a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. Though she won’t feel anything, Yuri makes his excuses where he can find them. It’s easy enough to fake an illness.

“Just a cold,” he answers.

Nathalie fusses over him, smoothing some of his hair out of his face. “We’ll get you home soon so you can rest. Would you like some more tea?”

Yuri almost sags with gratitude at the offer. “Please. Camomile is fine, if they have it.”

So it is that Yuri has another cup of tea in his hand before the rest of their group finish retrieving all of the luggage.

The second customs inspection goes as quickly as the first, and they’re on their way out of the airport sooner than Yuri anticipated. Their luggage is heaved into two cars parked one beside the other — JJ’s red BMW, and a dark blue vehicle Yuri assumes belongs to Nathalie and Alain. They all pile in after, in varied states of travel-weariness.

Yuri sips at his tea and stares out the window as they drive closer toward the city center. Montreal remains largely unfamiliar to him, his one and only visit being during the 2020 World Championships. Such a circumstance might engender an immediate sense of homesickness in one less traveled, but Yuri has spent so much of his life acclimating himself to different locations all around the world, the newness of it hardly fazes him. It will take time to adapt, he’s sure, but he will manage as easily as he always has during his travels — easier, in fact, with JJ around to help him adjust. 

Knowing very little about the city, he couldn’t direct anyone to the Leroy house on his own, and he’s too tired to ask JJ for commentary along the way, but it’s a good twenty-five minutes before they end up on a street lined with large, stately homes, each of which boasts impressive brick or stone exteriors.

“Fuck,” Yuri says. “This place is massive.”

JJ chuckles as he pulls into a garage after his parents. “What did you expect? My parents have ten kids.”

“I think money has more to do with it than the number of kids.”

“Charlie and I still had to share a bedroom when we were growing up.”

Yuri snorts and rolls his eyes, muttering sarcastically, “That must have been _so_ inconvenient for you.”

“Says the only child,” JJ counters.

“If you think I grew up with a lot of room to run around, think again,” Yuri says. “Deda’s apartment only has two bedrooms and one bathroom.”

Yuri suspects all of the residences along the street are old — at least a century, if not more — and while the lots themselves are fairly sizeable, the houses still seem too close together for any sort of guest house to exist on the property.

Yet once they’ve parked and unloaded some of their luggage, JJ leads Yuri to a separate structure behind the main house, opening the door to a small, quaint home. JJ leaves the first of their bags at the door and moves further inside to turn on more of the lights, offering Yuri a better view of their surroundings.

The door opens to a small foyer, with a staircase to their left and the living area to their right. The kitchen and dining area Yuri has seen so often over FaceTime are toward the rear of the main floor — not overlarge, but certainly functional enough for one adult and a nine-month-old. Most of the furnishings and decorations, while colorful and welcoming, lack any sort of personal touch. Melody’s toys in the living-area, and her highchair near the dining table, are all that identify this place as JJ’s temporary home.

“I’ll get the rest of our stuff if you want to change Mel,” JJ says.

Yuri makes his way up the stairs, nudging the light switches with his elbow as he goes. Melody’s room is easy to find, given that there are only two bedrooms to choose from. He digs around a chest of drawers for clean pajamas, then carefully lays Melody out on the changing table to begin peeling off her clothes.

She stirs as soon as he sets her down, fussing as her tiny hands lift to her angrily scrunched up face. One wipes over her tired eyes, while the other fists ineffectually at her ear.

Yuri shushes her quietly. “Shhh, Melenka, I’m sorry.”

Melody whines and kicks her legs once Yuri has her leggings off. She twists and tries to roll onto her side, but Yuri gently turns her onto her back again.

“This will go a lot faster if you stop fighting, you know.”

He murmurs to her in Russian while he makes quick work of her long sleeved onesie and her wet diaper. He eases her flailing limbs into warm pajamas — white with pastel dinosaurs and bright purple trim — before lifting her into his arms again and carrying her back downstairs.

She reaches for JJ as soon as he’s back in the house. Yuri exchanges her for the remainder of his tea, which JJ retrieved with the last of their suitcases.

JJ presses a kiss to Yuri’s mouth and says, “You look exhausted. Why don’t you lie down? I’ll carry everything upstairs once Mel’s had a bottle.”

“I want to shower first. I feel gross.”

“Are you hungry? I can make something for you while you’re washing up.”

Yuri groans pitifully. “Don’t even talk to me about food right now.”

JJ chuckles, but it’s quiet with sympathy. He cradles Yuri’s head with one hand and plants a kiss against his hairline.

When they separate, Yuri finishes his tea, then digs through his bags long enough to find his toiletries and a pair of clean underwear. He shuts himself away in the bathroom upstairs, where he fiddles with the shower until he figures out how to work it. His shower is as hurried as he can manage while he’s sluggish with fatigue. He rinses off the stale airplane smell and the cloud of strange scents that intruded upon him during their long flight. Once he’s satisfied that all traces of the day have been removed, Yuri climbs out to dry off. He uses the toilet, then pulls on his underwear and nothing else, brushing his teeth and smearing moisturizer onto his face before leaving the bathroom.

JJ whistles appreciatively as Yuri wanders into the second bedroom. “That’s a good look for you, babe.”

He’s sitting in bed with Melody in his arms, feeding her a bottle. The bed itself is wide enough for two full grown adults, though it might be a little crowded if they keep Melody in with them like they often did at the hotel.

Yuri glares and grumbles, “Shut the fuck up.”

He would explore the room more thoroughly if the bed wasn’t so inviting. As it is, Yuri discards his dirty clothes and makes only a quick survey before turning for the wooden dresser against the wall, through which he rifles for one of JJ’s t-shirts. Pulling it on over his swelling chest results in a disappointed pout from JJ. Yuri scoffs in disgust as soon as he notices, but says nothing about it, choosing to climb into bed as he begins to brush out his damp hair.

“I brought some snacks up for you,” JJ says, “in case you get hungry later.”

On the nightstand, Yuri finds a box of crackers, a bag of pretzels, a couple of bottles of water, and his phone, which he must have left either in the car or in the diaper bag. It’s already plugged in and charging.

Yuri sighs deeply, and he doesn’t know why, except that he’s tired and JJ is _way_ too considerate for a selfish asshole like him. When his hair is free of tangles and loosely braided over one shoulder, Yuri sets his brush aside with his stash of snacks, then shifts around until he can lie down, pressing his face against the side of JJ’s thigh.

“Thank you,” he grumbles into JJ’s jeans.

A warm hand lowers to stroke over Yuri’s damp hair. “Anything for you.”

Yuri squirms in place, pleased by the sentiment, but also very aware that JJ is far more considerate and far freer with his affections than Yuri is himself. This would not normally concern Yuri, as he prefers to remain relatively aloof in his dealings with most people, but here, in bed with his boyfriend, in what will be his new home for the next couple of months while the renovations to JJ’s house are completed, with the nausea and the fatigue and the aching chest to remind him of the baby slowly taking shape in his belly, Yuri experiences a flash of guilt.

He throws an arm across JJ’s thighs and squeezes tight, though the action seems more possessive than truly affectionate.

“Gross,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to do except follow his usual patterns of behavior.

JJ laughs softly through his nose. “Get some sleep, sweetpea.”

Yuri doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes a playful bite out of JJ’s thigh through his jeans before settling down. Under the dim light of the lamps and the quiet sound of Melody draining the rest of her bottle, Yuri drifts off before anything else can be said.

He’ll wake several times in the night, as has become the norm recently — when JJ rises to bring Melody to her room; when JJ returns to bed after changing and retrieving their bags; and later still, when the urge to pee rouses him — but JJ will be there when he does, soothing him back to sleep with soft kisses and gentle caresses, or rising to sit and stroke Yuri’s hair and rub his back when Yuri inevitably throws up.

Yuri returns the tenderness in the only way he knows how. He clings to JJ throughout the night, arms secure around him, one leg hooked over JJ’s hip, waking in the morning with JJ’s head cradled against his chest.

JJ holds him often, and Yuri enjoys every moment of it, but it isn’t until that first morning in Montreal that Yuri realizes how nice it is to be the one to do the holding.

* * *

[A picture of a wooden tray on JJ and Yuri’s bed, topped with a mug of tea, a mug of coffee (nearly finished already), two champagne flutes filled with orange juice, several different bowls of fruit, one bowl of yogurt, and a plate of crepes.]

**47,513 likes**

**yuri_plisetsky** First day in Montreal and I wake up to breakfast in bed #spoiled #lazymorning #yummmm  
****

**mila-babicheva** I always suspected JJ was the pampering type  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva :P  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva @yuri_plisetsky I have to make sure my baby is well fed ;D  
**+guanghongji+** Enjoy!! I know for a fact that JJ’s a good cook!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ Unlike you and Leo?  
**leo_de_la_iglesia** @+guanghongji+ @yuri_plisetsky We’ve gotten better :(  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky @leo_de_la_iglesia And the cooking classes have been fun!!!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @+guanghongji+ @leo_de_la_iglesia So neither of you have burned down the kitchen yet?  
**+guanghongji+** @yuri_plisetsky #leo_de_la_iglesia Haha slut very funny  
**christophe-gc** Looks like JJ’s a keeper!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @christophe-gc Surprisingly  
**phichit+chu** Come cook for me JJ!  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chu No he’s mine  
**phichit+chu** @yuri_plisetsky Good kitties should learn to share  
**yuri_plisetsky** @phichit+chut I’m not a good kitty

MARCH 28

* * *

They spend their first couple of days lazing around the house — in bed at first, then on the couch in front of the television, or on the floor among Melody’s extensive toy collection. They FaceTime Yuri’s “family” in Saint Petersburg on Tuesday, then Yuri calls Deda to inform him that he has arrived in decent enough health.

“And your JJ is taking care of you?” Deda asks.

“Yes, Deda. I promise he’s not a complete douchebag.”

Deda seems to switch back and forth between cautious approval and vague distrust depending on what he hears about JJ. He makes reproving comments about the tattoos every time one of the neighbors shows him a picture of JJ in a magazine (“I’m not convinced he’s a very good influence, Yurochka.”), but he warms up considerably whenever Yuri consents to discuss the relationship with him. (“He cooks for you? Good. An alpha should know their way around the kitchen as well as any omega. I used to cook for your grandmother, you know.”) Yuri rolls his eyes and smiles fondly every time, and promises once again that their trip to Moscow is still on the schedule.

Otherwise, Yuri and JJ pass the time binging random shows on Netflix, eating whatever food they feel like, playing video games, and keeping Melody entertained. The first afternoon, while they’re relaxing on the couch with Melody bouncing away in a stationary jumper nearby, JJ reads more of Yuri’s blog and teases him about his “obsession.”

“You like me,” JJ says, smiling against Yuri’s lips as he leans in for a kiss.

“I tolerate you,” Yuri corrects him.

JJ laughs and kisses him again, then nips at his nose and insists, “You like me a lot.”

Yuri scoffs but doesn’t push him away. He pulls JJ into a heated make out session instead, taking the opportunity to plunder JJ’s mouth with his tongue, before his stomach or bladder decides it’s time for another trip to the bathroom.

During Melody’s nap on Wednesday morning, they make even better use of their free time in bed.

“The baby’s hands and feet are starting to form,” Yuri says as they examine his pregnancy app while tangled up together in the aftermath of an enjoyable blowjob and a recipricatory hand job.

JJ studies the image on the screen as he skates the tips of his fingers over Yuri’s bare stomach. “Look how cute it is." 

“It isn’t cute,” Yuri scoffs. “It’s ugly.”

At most, it looks like a misshapen blob of a person, with tiny stumps for arms and legs, and dots for eyes on a developing head that curves forward over the bulging mass of its heart.

“The baby must get its looks from you then,” JJ jokes.

Yuri tries to glare but ends up snorting a laugh instead. He’s grown so used to JJ’s flattery, he was beginning to think JJ didn’t actually have it in him to crack a joke like that.

JJ grins from ear to ear as he steals another kiss. He makes his way down Yuri’s neck, soothing the marks he left on Yuri’s skin earlier. When he reaches Yuri’s sore chest, he’s careful to avoid doing anything that might have Yuri wincing away. He plants a trail of kisses between Yuri’s growing breasts, and nothing more.

“I don’t know why the fuck this thing wants me to start making a list of names,” Yuri says while JJ’s busy lavishing attention upon his stomach.

“That’s the fun part, isn’t is?” JJ teases, nibbling at Yuri’s navel.

“You tell me. You’re the one who’s actually named a baby.”

“Mmmm.” JJ’s hands smoothe down Yuri’s sides. “Did I ever tell you Melody’s name was almost Audrey?”

“ _Audrey_ ,” Yuri tests the way it sounds. He takes a moment to let it settle a little further into his brain before deciding, “She looks more like a Melody.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought the first time I saw her.”

“What were you going to call her if she was a boy?”

JJ doesn’t answer until he’s sucked a hickey onto Yuri’s inner thigh. “I hadn’t decided, but I liked Julien and Arthur.”

Yuri tries to imagine Melody with either of those names, but the results are no different than his attempts to imagine her as an Audrey.

“You’ve never thought of names?” JJ asks as he begins to work his way back up Yuri’s prone form."

“I never got that far,” Yuri says, gaze still fastened on his phone. “There didn’t seem to be a point when I didn’t even know if I’d ever have a baby. Why go through the trouble of figuring out which names I liked if I was just going to be disappointed when I never got to use them?”

JJ rises up to hover over him, catching Yuri’s eye with a questioning look on his face. “So if you and me were never a thing, you would’ve just… given up?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But I think that’s what you mean.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and looks back at his phone so he doesn’t have to see the sadness in JJ’s gaze. “I could’ve had a baby on my own.”

Softy, JJ says, “That’s not what you wanted, though.”

No, that isn’t what he’d wanted. Barely more than a year ago, what he’d _wanted_ was to be with Otabek. He’d wanted them to dominate figure skating together for several more years to come, then travel and explore more of the world before settling down in Saint Petersburg or Almaty to start a family. The fantasies hadn’t extended much further than that, perhaps because there was a part of Yuri that always knew it was an incredibly far-fetched dream.

He doesn’t want to talk about any of that right now, so he smirks and says, “It’s lucky you live up to my standards then, isn’t it?”

Though JJ takes the bait, it’s obvious by the smile he forces onto his face that he’s done so purposefully. “And what standards are those?”

“You must not know me as well as you like to think if you can’t answer that on your own,” Yuri taunts him.

“So this is a challenge?”

Yuri shrugs and drops his phone onto the bed, arching into a full body stretch. “If you want it to be.”

JJ moves in to nip at Yuri’s neck again. “Obviously you’re attracted to alphas, but… I think you like alpha men in particular.”

“If that was all, I’d have plenty of other options.”

“You like them dark.” JJ tongues at Yuri’s pulse. “You like them handsome.” He bites at the hinge of Yuri’s jaw. “You like them athletic.” He nips at Yuri’s ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth before kissing the shell. “And you like them successful.” 

“So your fans are right,” Yuri says, skimming his palms down JJ’s back to knead at his ass. “I’m a gold digger.”

“Success doesn’t necessarily mean money.”

Yuri snorts into JJ’s beard and mumbles, “That’s exactly what it means.”

“Success is happiness,” JJ argues, pausing to press a kiss to Yuri’s mouth.

Instead of countering the point and taking the conversation in a completely different direction, Yuri says, “So I’m attracted to happy, dark, and handsome alpha men who are athletes?”

JJ’s grin goes broad and lopsided. “And you secretly have a thing for facial hair.”

Yuri’s brow arches skeptically. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Except you’re actually not very secretive about it at all.” JJ’s voice shifts into a passable imitation of Yuri’s accent. “Your wife didn’t like it? _Good_ , that’s all the excuse I need. Grow it out.” Yuri gives JJ’s ass a hard smack, which doesn’t deter JJ in the least. “Then I’ll put my hands on it, and rub my face against it, and when you go down on me, I’ll—”

Yuri kisses him quiet, yanking him down so their groins are flush together. He grinds his hardening cock against JJ, who releases a happy moan into his mouth.

And that’s all it takes to stop _that_ line of teasing from going any further.

Sex is slower these days — more leisurely. Yuri considers himself fortunate that his libido hasn’t taken much of a hit despite the fact that he’s tired and liable to puke at any moment. Still, the sense of urgency that once drove their encounters has eased now that the spectre of separation no longer looms before them. They have all the time in the world to enjoy one another, instead of little more than a few days scattered over the year.

JJ’s scent, the taste of his hungry mouth, the weight of him against Yuri’s body, all of it has Yuri wet and shaking with desire. Their fucking that morning is neither vigorous nor creative. Fatigue keeps Yuri on his back, but he doesn’t mind — not when he can stare into JJ’s eyes and watch the expressions that cross his face; not when there’s so much warm skin and hard muscle for him to explore with eager hands.

“Do you know what the hottest thing about you was back before I was injured?” JJ asks as he rocks into Yuri, supporting himself on one arm while his free hand strokes Yuri’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Yuri moans against JJ’s jaw and gasps out, “What?”

JJ sucks on Yuri’s lips instead of answering right away — one before the other, dipping his tongue between them to make another deep exploration of Yuri’s mouth. He pulls another low moan from Yuri, then breaks the kiss with a smug grin and says, “How _bad_ you wanted me, and how desperate you were to deny it.”

“I didn’t—”

He thrusts hard before Yuri can finish, punching another moan out of Yuri’s chest. “Sometimes I could smell it on you.”

Yuri grabs him by the ass again, keening as JJ’s knot begins to swell. “What’s the hottest thing now?”

JJ bites at his neck and soothes the sudden burst of pain with his tongue, then groans, “How much you need me.”

Need is not an unfamiliar thing.

He needs food and water to survive. He needs the ice to feel accomplished. He needs a healthy body to have a lengthy career. He needs his grandfather’s love, and Yakov and Lilia’s guidance. He needs his friends for encouragement and support.

But the thought that he might need JJ specifically — for sex or companionship, or any of the countless other things that have come to define their relationship — is relatively new.

Yuri can’t help but think that a need like that is a weakness. One he would prefer to avoid. One he _can not_ admit to for fear of what it might mean. He’s already given too much of himself once before, and though he knows he’s _so_ _close_ to doing so again, Yuri keeps a death grip on his restraint even in his most vulnerable moments, shielding his heart with the last few pieces of denial he has left. The need that JJ speaks of is dangerous, because it has only ever led to disappointment. What he and JJ have together might be different, but it’s still too tenuous, too uncertain.

He couldn’t risk it before, when nothing mattered but the two of them.

He can’t risk it now, with Melody and a new baby caught in the middle.

Yet, in the aftermath, when he sees the swirl of emotion in JJ’s eyes, when he can do nothing more than bask in the tenderness of JJ’s touch, the shield around Yuri’s heart slips further out of place. He touches JJ’s face, he cradles JJ’s head to his shoulder, and he loses himself in the satisfaction of having JJ in his arms.

In the end, Yuri pushes the thought from his mind. He sleeps and wakes. He rushes to the bathroom when his stomach turns. He plays with Melody. He relaxes with JJ and lets himself enjoy the comfort of it all. He doesn’t consider his feelings, which he knows are growing, and he doesn’t consider that JJ might feel the same, because at the moment it doesn’t seem to matter. What good would it do to acknowledge any of it? What would it actually change?

On Thursday, after two days of lounging around in their pajamas, they finally leave the house. Yuri would be more than happy to extend their lazy hibernation over the rest of the week, but JJ is restless for a return to his active lifestyle.

They wash up after breakfast and replace their sweatpants and t-shirts with comfortable athletic wear, then grab their skates and head to the training complex where JJ’s parents have established their skating school.

“Does it meet your needs?” JJ asks once he’s given Yuri the grand tour."

Yuri is pleased by his own ability to keep an impassive face. “It’ll do.”

The truth is that it’s as well equipped as any training facility in Russia, and home to many a familiar face. Though three of Nathalie’s and Alain’s current trainees happen to be their children, they have several more students on their roster.

The first is a young woman from South Korea who Yuri has known since his days on the Junior circuit. The second, a young man from China who was once a rinkmate of Guang Hong’s in Beijing. Then there is an eighteen-year-old man and twenty-four year old woman from the United States, both of whom Yuri has encountered at many competitions over the years. They’re followed by the Junior Canadian national gold medalist in Ladies singles, who Yuri knows more by reputation than he does any prior meeting. 

And, finally, there is Jamie Landry, the reigning men’s Junior Grand Prix gold medalist and Junior World champion.

Watching Jamie is almost like looking into a mirror and watching a younger version of himself. Newly fifteen, Jamie is as petite as Yuri was at the same age, shorter than average and shockingly thin — a thought that arouses a fair bit of guilt, given how much Yuri hates the attention paid to his weight. There’s a delicacy to Jamie’s movements that Yuri recognizes, the same fluid grace that has allowed him to maintain the image of the Russian Fairy to this day, and though there’s room for improvement in the crispness of Jamie’s lines and the height of his extensions, it’s clear that he has made ballet a major focus of his off-ice training.

“Do you want to say hello?” JJ asks once he’s finished fastening his skates.

Yuri stands by the boards around the rink with Melody in his arms, content to remain off of the ice for now, his stomach being somewhat fickle at this time of day. With JJ in his skates beside him, the difference between their heights is about as vast as it used to be.

“Later,” Yuri says. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Let me know when you need a break from Mel.”

Yuri snorts and side-eyes him while JJ leans over to remove his skate guards one by one. “If anything, I need a break from _you_.”

Straightening again, JJ grins and says, “That’s a lie.”

He ducks down and drops a peck onto Yuri’s lips, then kisses both of Melody’s chubby cheeks, sets his skate guards aside on the boards, and takes off onto the ice.

Another figure catches Yuri’s attention only seconds later, an adolescent girl who shouts JJ’s name and skates in his direction as soon as she notices his arrival. She jumps into his waiting arms in a move that’s half hug, half orchestrated lift, her face alight with glee.

If JJ is the spitting image of his father — save for a few subtle differences, such as his added height, the color of his eyes, and the brash expressions Yuri knows for a fact come to JJ through Nathalie — then the same can be said about his younger sister Alice and their mother. From the fairness of her complexion, to the long red hair she keeps bound back into the sort of tight ballet bun Lilia has always favored, Alice Leroy is her mother’s duplicate. She is, perhaps, a little more lanky than Nathalie was at her age, but she has the same round face and olive eyes, and her skating shows clear signs of influence from her parents’ ice dancing background. 

The age difference between Alice and JJ has to be at least a decade, but it’s apparent by her excitement that she adores her oldest brother. As young as Alice is, she looks very small against JJ’s larger frame — another thought that has Yuri scowling, as he wonders if he and JJ ever look similarly comical together. After all, he may be significantly taller than he was at Alice’s age, but as far too many people like to point out, he never did fill out much.

“Sweetheart…”

Yuri tears his attention away from JJ and Alice to watch as Nathalie approaches, regarding him with a warm smile.

She’s been using that endearment since Naples. If asked, Yuri could not explain _why_ she chose to begin using the term then. Other than JJ and his numerous pet names, no one but Yuri’s mother has called him anything other than some version of his given name. He’s been “Yura” to his friends for years now, “Yurio” to the Katsukis and the Nishigoris in Japan, and “Yurochka” to Deda, Yakov, and Lilia. Under different circumstances, Nathalie’s use of another nickname might not sit well with him, but Yuri can’t help but like it for no other reason than that he never once heard Nathalie refer to JJ’s wife as anything other than “Isabella.”

“Are you feeling any better?” she asks him, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the boards.

 _No_ , Yuri thinks, but he can’t say that without kindling her concern or suspicion, so out loud he says, “A little.”

She doesn’t check his temperature this time, perhaps willing to take his word for it now that he’s upright and obviously functioning better than he was the other night at the airport. 

Melody gurgles happily when she sees her grandmother. Bundled up against the cold of the rink in a warm snowsuit, she reaches out with mittened hands, leaning as far over the boards as Yuri’s hold on her will allow. Nathalie steps off of the ice to take her from Yuri, speaking to Melody in rapid, informal Québécois French, certain phrases of which Yuri can pick up better than others.

For a moment, he watches Nathalie and Melody interact, less concerned with what’s being said than he is with the love that exists between them. With his arms empty now, Yuri slips his hands into the front pocket of JJ’s hoodie, casually resting his palms against his stomach.

He has no idea what JJ’s parents truly think of him. What their reactions will be when they learn of his pregnancy presents a similar mystery. JJ seems to think they’ll be overjoyed, and while Yuri is inclined to believe him, he doesn’t know any of the Leroys well enough to make any sort of accurate prediction on his own.

They’ve always been pleasant to him, even when he wasn’t on the best of terms with their son. Over the years, Yuri has occasionally noticed Nathalie watching him with JJ, always with a look of amusement on her face — sometimes even with an arrogant smirk to rival JJ’s, like she’s enjoyed their rivalry as much as JJ has. Otherwise, his interactions with JJ’s parents have been limited. Yakov has a great deal of respect for them, at least — and vice versa — which engenders a certain level of trust. Yuri knows them as remarkable skaters and coaches of great renown. He expects he’ll have as much to learn from them as he has from Yakov and Lilia.

“JJ said you’ve been thinking of choreographing and giving ballet lessons during your hiatus,” Nathalie says. She holds Melody facing away from them, so Melody can watch the skaters currently on the ice.

Yuri shrugs and glances toward JJ and Alice again. “He seems to think there might be a demand.”

“We could certainly use someone with your experience on our staff.”

“Is this an official offer?” Yuri asks, more cautious than he wants to be.

There’s another smile in Nathalie’s voice when she answers. “Alice has been asking JJ for months if you’ll choreograph a program for her.”

Yuri continues to look out over the ice, watching as Alain herds Alice back to practice. JJ is ordered to finish warming up, which he does without complaint. A hush falls over the rink then, broken by a few quiet voices here and there, and the occasional instruction from Alain, but for the most part the only sounds are that of several pairs of blades across the ice —  a sound so deeply ingrained in Yuri’s psyche, he begins to feel more at home with each passing second.

“She doesn’t have Sophie’s presence,” Yuri observes as Alice launches into a double axel.

If Nathalie takes offense to the comment, it doesn’t come through in either her voice or her scent. “We tried to encourage her toward ice dancing when she was younger. She has all the makings of an ice dancer. But she insisted she wanted to compete individually.”

“Sibling rivalry?” Yuri takes a guess.

“Alain thinks so.”

“And Jamie?”

“Exceptionally gifted,” Nathalie says, “but a little shy and reserved. We’ve had trouble helping him break out of his shell.” She pauses, hoisting Melody a little higher in her arms. “You could help him with that, I think. He looks up to you.”

Yuri is no stranger to the idolization of younger skaters. He’s dealt with the awe of those less successful since he was very young, when he outpaced all of the children who trained at his home rink in Moscow. The years have only broadened his renown. Now it isn’t simply kids in Moscow who stare at him and emulate his style, but young skaters all around the world, including a skinny blond boy from Canada who, unlike many of the others, has never imposed upon Yuri in any way.

When Jamie skates by Alice, and the two exchange a smile and a brief comment that pulls a laugh from JJ’s sister, it’s easy for Yuri to imagine himself and Mila out there on the ice, hard at work under Yakov’s watchful eye.

It probably isn’t worth pretending he didn’t already know what he was going to do as soon as JJ broached the subject with him a couple of months ago. Still, Yuri can’t let himself seem too enthusiastic about it. He sighs heavily and says, “I could use a new team jacket anyway.”

Nathalie chuckles, a sound that’s eerily reminiscent of JJ. “It’ll look good on you.”

Often, her scent reminds Yuri of his mother. There’s nothing comparable about the fragrance itself, except for the natural sweetness of an omega, but the warm, nurturing tone of it brings back memories Yuri doesn’t often dwell on — memories of a frail blond omega singing songs from a hospital bed.

Nathalie isn’t thin and sickly like his mother, nor is she stern and aloof like Lilia, but she shares many qualities with the maternal figures in Yuri’s life. She’s kind like Mama was, and focused like Lilia. Beneath her ambition is an underlying compassion like Nadya. She’s as energetic as Yuuko Nishigori and as hardy as Hiroko Katsuki. Yuri knows little about her outside of what he’s learned from JJ, as well as what information his knowledge of figure skating history has afforded him, yet he doesn’t feel out of place in her presence. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he’s become attached to her, but he finds more comfort being alone with her than he does with Alain.

They stand together at the boards for a while, quiet as they continue to observe practice, which, in the wake of the World Championships, is generally a laid back affair.

When Nathalie’s scent sweetens further with joy and contentment, Yuri follows the line of her gaze to the imposing figure JJ cuts across the ice.

He’s the most experienced skater out there right now. Nearing twenty-seven, he’s also one of the oldest currently competing in either of the individual divisions. Yet his body doesn’t appear to be deteriorating, and his injured knee hasn’t caused any lingering issues. Even his year and a half long hiatus hasn’t slowed him down. If anything, it might have done him some good. He’s as energetic as he was before, tireless in a way Yuri envies. Maybe JJ’s flexibility isn’t what it used to be, but the power is there. He’s still daring and strong and larger than life.

And _so_ handsome.

It isn’t just his body, which is perfect; nor is it just his face, which is similarly flawless.

It’s the light of life in his eyes. It’s the confidence he exudes. It’s his heart and his soul, and how open he is to sharing both with the world.

“He’s happy,” Nathalie says.

Yuri spares her a brief glance before his eyes shift back to JJ, who continues a series of easy laps around the rink. 

“He hasn’t been this happy in a long time.”

That much Yuri knows. JJ was different a year ago, in Beijing. Quieter. More reserved. He almost seemed cynical. Perhaps it should have been obvious to Yuri then what was happening between JJ and Isabella, but it was easy to blame the change in JJ’s demeanor on his injury.

Nathalie continues, “After the Olympics last year, when he said he wanted to make a comeback… I didn’t tell him, but I was worried he wasn’t ready for it.”

“His knee had already healed,” Yuri lightly argues.

“Of course it did. We knew it would, with time. But even then, he wasn’t himself. He was distant with everyone. He wouldn’t listen to me or his father. I think… even though he refused to talk about it… I think he felt resentful.”

Yuri frowns and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, pulling his hands out of his pocket to lean against the boards on his forearms. He almost says something snide about Isabella, but chooses to hold it back at the last second. There’s no telling whether Nathalie would appreciate it or not.

“Then, when everything with Isabella…” Nathalie pauses. Her scent becomes muted with restrained sadness. From her temporary silence, Yuri assumes she can’t determine what she’d like to say on the subject. Maybe she wants to be diplomatic, like JJ. “Well, I’d never seen him so angry or so heartbroken. We tried to help him through it the best we could, but… what do Alain and I know about that sort of pain?”

Nothing. They’ve been together since they were children. Their romance was like a fairytale. Even Yuri, as hesitant as he often is with romance, has to admire that about Nathalie and Alain. Their commitment to one another is something remarkable in a world full of so many deeply flawed people.

“All we could tell him was to have faith. That we would always love him. That we’d be here for him. And then, all of a sudden, he wanted to compete again.”

When Nathalie turns to him, Yuri catches her eye. He detects something in her scent he can’t immediately identify, but the longer he focuses on it, the more he thinks it might be gratitude. 

“At first, I thought he might be missing his friends,” she says. “And I know a part of him did, but then Sophie mentioned you last summer…” 

“Sophie and her big mouth,” Yuri grumbles.

Nathalie laughs. “I’m glad she said something. I didn’t realize he’d been seeing you, but I knew as soon as she said it… if anyone could help JJ find himself again, it would be you.”

“But I didn’t…” Yuri struggles to find the right words to complete the thought. Eventually, he gives up with a shrug and a frustrated huff.

Undeterred, Nathalie smiles. “Ever since your Senior debut, you’ve motivated him more than anyone else. He started tailoring his programs specifically to compete with _you_ the way he used to compete with Viktor. JJ’s very talented. He has more natural ability than Alain or I ever did. I’ve known that since he was a little boy. But he never would have been as successful as he’s become without you to challenge him.”

It isn’t an unfamiliar sentiment. For months now, it has passed between he and JJ, spoken of in vague terms by Yuri, and via praises on social media by JJ. They _have_ pushed one another, whether or not they spoke of it — and they never did when they were younger, barely friends but still something more than acquaintances, sharing sporadic moments at competitions, moments that never seemed to mean anything, until they suddenly came to an end.

But to hear JJ’s mother put it all into words, to have her acknowledge him as a significant part of JJ’s life, has a much larger impact than if Yuri were to review their history on his own again.

“I’m his mother,” Nathalie says. “I know him better than anyone.”

Yuri drops his hands from the boards and shoves them into the pocket of JJ’s hoodie again, where they settle back over his stomach.

“He has an arrogant streak. He gets that from me as much as he does from his father’s side, but I always had Alain to help me stay level-headed. You’ve done that for JJ. You keep him in check. You’ve humbled him on more than one occasion. You remind him that there’s always room to grow, and you give him a reason to keep trying. You inspire him in ways no one else has ever been able to.”

She pauses again, inhaling deeply. Yuri looks to her out of the corner of his eye, expecting that she might have turned her attention to her son. Instead, he finds her smiling at him still, with eyes that look slightly wet around the edges.

“I’m so grateful to see you with him, after everything,” she says. “He’s happy.” She takes another deep breath, and Yuri wonders if she might actually start crying. “I have my baby back.”

Inexplicably, Yuri’s eyes burn.

Yes, that’s gratitude he smells. Her scent is thick with it. 

How can Yuri possibly deserve it? What has he done except shout at JJ and make snide comments, insult him and reject his company, until Yuri had no one else to turn to who would listen when there was bitching to be done? He never made friendship easy. He never encouraged it. He never sought JJ out, except when it came to antagonizing his wife. He erected more barriers between them than he did with any of the rest of their friends, barriers that took years for JJ to chip away at, barriers Yuri still looks to for protection whenever their new relationship seems too intense. 

Nathalie speaks as if he didn’t have to do anything. He simply had to exist, to challenge JJ not with words, but with actions — with every program. She speaks as if the important thing is not what he’s done _to_ JJ, but what he’s inspired JJ to become.

Yuri stares out over the ice again, clenching his teeth in an effort to stave off the building emotions, but his gaze locks onto JJ almost against his will, and the battle is lost before it’s even begun. 

JJ is difficult to ignore and impossible to forget. He stepped into Yuri’s life as if he belonged there, and he refused to give up his place once he’d successfully established himself. When he was gone, there wasn’t anyone who could fill the void he left behind. Yuri had friends, companions, and family, but without JJ, he had no equal.

It hits him then, how close he came to losing this. There were so many steps along the way that, if changed or removed, could have led to a vastly different outcome. What if JJ learned how to be the dutiful husband and stopped flirting before he took things too far? What if Isabella never antagonized Yuri to the point of hatred? What if JJ managed to sort out the issues with his wife and saved their marriage? What if JJ never even hurt his knee, and Yuri had no reason to realize just how important JJ had become?

Yuri sniffs wetly and wipes at one eye with his sleeve before the moisture there can slide down his cheek.

Damn these fickle hormones, laying waste to his self-control.

“Sweetheart,” Nathalie says, scent sharpening with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Yuri shakes his head and wipes at his face again, horrified by the thought that someone else might see. Yet, no matter what he does, his eyes remain damp.

“I missed him,” his says, voice low so it doesn’t carry, strained from a throat gone impossibly tight. “When he was gone. I missed him the whole time.”

He couldn’t admit it before, when the loss was new. He can barely do so now, forcing it out before the words vanish beneath the denial.

More than any retirement, more than any other injury, JJ’s was the most staggering. Once, Yuri would have blamed the suddenness of it; JJ was there on the ice as usual, giving his all to every performance, and then he was gone without any warning. In the blink of an eye, or the space of a single heartbeat, with one wrong move, everything changed. Suddenly, Yuri didn’t have to see JJ’s smug face, or hear his annoying voice, or push himself quite as hard as he did with JJ just one step ahead of him. The gold was his to claim at every competition, yet his career seemed to stagnate.

But here, in JJ’s home rink, in the aftermath of JJ’s return to the World Championship podium, with the developing feelings between them so obvious, and so frightening, Yuri can’t make that excuse again.

In the end, their relationship back then was about far more than any spite or hatred Yuri felt for Isabella. JJ was more than a rival or a friend. He was an inevitability. No matter what happened between them, no matter what time or circumstance managed to change, nothing less than _this_ would have been enough.

Nathalie’s scent warms again. She makes a quiet sound of understanding, then turns and wraps an arm around him, encouraging Yuri’s head down to her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against his hair. “Thank you.”

Melody squeals and grabs at Yuri, pulling at the loose strands of his hair as much as her mittened hands will allow. Yuri makes no move to stop her. The sound of her young voice, the warmth of her little body, the immediacy of her acceptance, he cherishes all of it. She is a piece of JJ, and JJ is a piece of Yuri’s life in a way no one else has ever been.

Someone skates close to the boards, sliding to a stop. Yuri knows it’s JJ before he even picks up JJ’s scent. 

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nathalie says. “Go. It’s alright. You have a lot of work to do before next season.”

JJ isn’t satisfied with the reassurances. One of his hands settles against Yuri’s head, softly stroking his hair while Melody yanks and gurgles drool.

Carefully, Yuri pulls out of Nathalie’s embrace, taking Melody with him when she lunges toward JJ. Yuri meets JJ’s concerned stare with wet eyes. This time, Yuri makes no effort to disguise the emotions. He doesn’t conceal them beneath anger and frustration. He doesn’t brush them off and force himself to regain his composure. He leans over the boards and curls his free arm around JJ’s neck, holding tight while the feeling lasts, before embarrassment has the chance to swoop in.

JJ pulls Yuri as close as the barrier between them allows, wiping some of the moisture from Yuri’s face with his thumb.

Neither of them speak; JJ doesn’t ask, and Yuri doesn’t explain. In that moment, words are unnecessary.

Yuri doesn’t need them to know that JJ understands.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri sitting up in bed, taken just after he’s woken up. His hair is a mess and he’s clutching a mug of tea close to his mouth. Based on the excessively loose fit of his t-shirt, it’s safe to assume he’s stolen another one of JJ’s.]

**109,235 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** I get to wake up to this every morning #blessed

 **yuri_plisetsky** #gross  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky #beautiful  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjelroy!15 #delusional  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky #sugarplumbabydoll  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 You’re dead  
**sophie_leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @Jjleroy!15 Thank you for this new name to annoy Yuri with  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 @sophie_leroy00 You’re a bitch  
**sophie_leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @Jjleroy!15 Is that any way to treat your sister in law?  
**mila-babicheva** Morning Yura is the worst Yura. How do you tolerate him?  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Breakfast in bed every morning seems to mellow him out  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 Every morning???? Good god don’t spoil him so much  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva Too late  
**+guanghongji+** Good to see he’s adjusting well to Montreal  
**Jjleroy!15** @+guanghongji+ He waltzed into the house and made himself right at home

APRIL 1

* * *

“Are you taking another picture of me while I’m sleeping?”

Yuri mumbles the question into a pillow, cracking an eye open to spy JJ by the side of the bed, doing exactly that — only he has a proper camera in his hands this time instead of his phone.

“I can’t help it,” JJ says, grinning as he takes another shot. “You look so sweet.”

Yuri groans and rolls over, presenting JJ with his back.

He does _not_ look sweet. He’s a mess of disheveled hair and gangly limbs, with JJ’s t-shirt twisted out of place to bare one shoulder, and the sheets and quilt tangled around his legs. There’s a wet spot on the pillow where he drooled in his sleep. His eyes are crusty. He hasn’t showered. His face is pale from nausea and riddled with pimples. Multiple overnight trips to the bathroom mean intermittent sleep, which means the horrible dark circles under his eyes remain.

“Rise and shine, babydoll,” JJ says. By the sudden burst of light through his eyelids, Yuri assumes JJ has opened the curtains. “Today’s a big day. No time for lazing around in bed. I already dropped Mel off with Bella’s parents.”

Yuri groans louder and opens his eyes enough to glare. “Where’s my breakfast?”

“Sit up and I’ll pass it to you. I bought donuts.”

It’s the worst feeling, being nauseous enough that even the thought of food can send him running for the bathroom, yet wanting those donuts so desperately he might just die if he doesn’t get his hands on them within the next five minutes.

“Come on, sugarplum.” The mattress shifts as JJ climbs onto the bed. Yuri turns to push him away, but he’s too tired to fight at full strength. JJ soon has him pinned. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get up soon.”

“You’re JJ Leroy,” Yuri says. “Aren’t you allowed to be late?”

JJ snorts and swoops down for a kiss. “That would be rude.”

“I have a reputation for being rude.”

“If we’re late, we might have to reschedule the surprise I set up for you after.”

“What surprise?” Yuri eyes him suspiciously.

JJ pecks him on the mouth again. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

He releases Yuri and slides off of the bed, grabbing a tray of food from atop the dresser to set it over Yuri’s lap as soon as Yuri forces himself into a seated position. JJ has shown some restraint with breakfast this morning, loading the tray down with the usual tea and orange juice, but presenting Yuri with a simple spread of oatmeal with fruit and a selection of donuts instead of one of the home cooked meals he’s been treated to over the last week.

Yuri eats while JJ showers, then showers when JJ’s done. He drags his feet and takes his time, shooting JJ another moody glare on his way to the bathroom.

If Yuri had it his way, he wouldn’t leave the house at all. Saturday night saw them at the main house for dinner with JJ’s family. Even though it’s Monday now, Yuri would rather avoid social interaction of any sort for at least a few more days. Though two of JJ’s siblings are out of town for university, the rest are rowdy enough to make up for the pair’s absence. If more of them were reticent like Charlie, it might not have been such a draining experience, but other than Gabriel, three weeks further along in his pregnancy than Yuri, JJ’s remaining brothers and sisters are numerous enough that their obnoxiousness can reach even higher levels than Viktor, Mila, and Georgi can when they get going.

Yuri is not a social person by any stretch of the imagination. Dinner with friends is acceptable, a few hours with his “family” is bearable even with some minor annoyances, and the social obligations of a competitive figure skater are routine enough at this point that Yuri’s most common complaint while attending to them is boredom. But meeting almost half a dozen new people at once, most of whom happen to be loud and animated, and all of whom have about a hundred questions to ask him about skating or dance or Russia? That’s another matter entirely — worse than it would normally be, even, when he has a pregnancy to hide, and too many curious eyes following his every move.

After his shower, Yuri trudges back into the bedroom with his damp hair thrown into a messy bun. On Friday, he caved to the discomfort and bought a couple of sports bras, though at this point they’re less for support and more to keep his shirts from uncomfortably rubbing against his sore nipples. He pulls one on after slipping into a pair of clean underwear, pausing to stare at himself in the mirror over the dresser, turning from side to side to study the shape of his growing breasts. So far, it’s still fairly easy to hide them beneath loose tops, but he doesn’t expect that will be the case in another month — maybe even less than that.

Shitty as his instincts used to be, his body is certainly doing its job to prepare for the baby.

If only his stomach were growing as fast as his boobs.

“You look beautiful,” JJ says, coming to lean against the door jamb.

Yuri grumbles as he digs through his suitcase for something to wear, “Not much to see.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful,” JJ counters.

Yuri rolls his eyes and finishes pulling his clothes on. He chooses leggings instead of jeans again, with one of JJ’s t-shirts knotted up to his stomach, and a Montreal Canadiens hoodie he takes from the closet without asking. When he’s perpetually tired and throwing up at least once a day, comfort is far more important to Yuri than style. It just so happens that most of JJ’s clothes are comfortable.

JJ has that smug, lopsided grin on his face by the time Yuri’s finished; satisfaction bleeds into his scent as he takes his time eying Yuri’s attire. Yuri glares and smacks JJ’s shoulder on the way out of the bedroom, but he quickly follows it up by dragging JJ into a heated kiss.

On their way to the garage, Yuri asks, “What did you tell your parents we’re doing this morning?”

“I told them the truth,” JJ says. “That you’ve been sick, so I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“And they didn’t question it?”

“Nope. Mom told me to make sure you get plenty of rest and to let her know if I need her to handle any of the cooking. Don’t be surprised if she drops by with some soup tonight.”

“So they still don’t suspect anything?”

JJ comes to a stop, pulling Yuri close to press a soothing kiss to his lips. “Sweetpea, _relax_. If they figure it out, then they figure it out. I’m not going to be upset if we don’t get to surprise them.”

He opens the passenger side door for Yuri once they’ve reached the car. Yuri climbs in without any further questions or complaints, but he spends most of the ride glaring out the window.

As prone to stress as he is by nature, the prospect of anyone else discovering his pregnancy before he’s ready to share it with them has left him fraying under the pressure of keeping it hidden. Telling everyone in Russia was easy. Sharing the news with Mila and Sara when they visited during the World Championships was similarly stress free. Yet, somehow, breaking the news to anyone else seems like a daunting task, perhaps due to the fact that he knows so little about JJ’s family, and therefore can’t predict what their reactions might be. Since leaving Russia, he’s been so tentative about anyone else finding out that they haven’t even told Guang Hong and Leo yet.

Or Otabek.

Or Isabella.

Telling either of them could prove to be disastrous. 

On the one hand, Yuri would like to put either instance off for as long as possible. He wants to be happy for a while. He wants to enjoy these early weeks as much as he’s able to between throwing up and endless bouts of interrupted sleep. He wants to take his time settling into life in Montreal without Otabek hounding him for being rash, or Isabella trying to cause trouble before the divorce is finalized. He wants to let his pregnancy sink in, because it hasn’t yet, even when the evidence is in every unrelenting symptom.

On the other hand, keeping the secret is an additional stress Yuri would rather not have to deal with any longer. He can’t _be_ happy with the prospect of both Otabek and Isabella finding out looming somewhere in the future. The paranoia only makes its worse. He won’t be able to hide it for much longer. Enough people know at this point that some piece of information could always leak out. Yuri looks at himself every day and thinks, “Can people tell when they see me?” Even if nothing is visible yet beneath the loose shirts and sweaters he’s taken to wearing, surely there’s something about him that seems suspicious. There’s no way anyone could miss the uncertainty in his scent.

The media attention poses its own risks. Being in a relationship with JJ means more than the figure skating community is interested in his activities and his whereabouts. They’re left alone at home, but every time they go out in public together, there’s a chance they might be spotted by JJ’s fans or the paparazzi.

Yuri can only imagine the utter shitstorm that would occur if his pregnancy was exposed by some intrepid paparazzo.

“I hate this,” Yuri mutters.

JJ reaches over to take one of Yuri’s hands, lacing their fingers together. 

“Today is going to be a good day,” he says. “It’s going to be a good week. Try not to worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

Guilt forms an uncomfortable pit in Yuri’s stomach, because JJ has been responsible for everything since their relationship took off. He made the first move. And the second. And the third. He’s handled the attention from their fans and the questions from the media. He’s dealt with the brunt of Isabella’s bullshit. JJ has been generous and accommodating and increasingly indulgent, and while he seems to enjoy assuming that role, the imbalance is stark enough at this point that Yuri is almost ashamed to have taken advantage of it for so long.

He’s been in Montreal for a week now, and he hasn’t done anything but lie around the house and make a lazy attempt to train at the rink. He hasn’t cooked. He hasn’t cleaned. He’s barely exercised outside of his limited time on the ice and a couple of sessions at the barre. He hasn’t even bothered to unpack his suitcases yet, digging through them when he needs something but otherwise leaving them as they are, only putting his clothes away once they’ve been used and put through the laundry. Seeing as he’s stolen several articles of clothing from JJ since arriving, most of his own remains where it was when JJ brought it upstairs that first night.

Turning away from the window, Yuri squeezes JJ’s hand and says, “You’re being too generous.”

“Maybe I want to be,” JJ counters.

“Why?”

JJ pauses for a moment as he considers the question; Yuri wishes JJ weren’t wearing sunglasses, so he could better observe the thoughts shifting in those pale blue eyes. Eventually, JJ effects a nonchalant shrug. “I didn’t get to enjoy this last time. Bella didn’t want me involved at all, so… I want to make the most of every moment. I like taking care of you. I like seeing you comfortable and happy.”

“I’m a shit boyfriend,” Yuri grumbles.

“You’ve never been in a real relationship before, though, have you?”

“So?”

JJ throws him a quick, warm smile before turning his eyes back to the road. “So if you need time to adapt, that’s okay. You’ve always been more reserved than I am anyway. But you’re loyal. When you make a decision about something, you commit to it. You’re more attentive than you like to think you are. I know you’re serious about us, and I know you care about me.”

Yuri squirms in his seat but doesn’t let go of JJ’s hand. He conceals the action by shifting into another position, turning to the side to stare at JJ’s profile, taking comfort from the soft smile on JJ’s face.

The drive from JJ’s parents’ house to the birthing center is a short one. Despite the nature of today’s appointment, Yuri can’t find it in himself to be excited. Medical personnel are medical personnel no matter what they happen to specialize in. Chances are he’ll be poked and prodded at. He’ll answer the same questions he’s always asked, and he’ll receive comments about issues he’s already well aware of.

JJ drapes an arm around Yuri’s shoulders once they’re out of the car, planting a comforting kiss against the side of his head. Yuri leans into him with an arm around JJ’s waist, glaring at the building as if it’s done him some grave personal offense.

“It’s going to be fine,” JJ says.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Yuri complains. “You’re not the one they’ll be poking at.”

“I’ll be in there with you,” JJ consoles him. His scent goes a little cautious in the brief pause that follows. “Unless you don’t want me there.”

Yuri pinches JJ’s side and mutters, “Don’t be stupid.”

They’re allowed through a private entrance; JJ asked for discretion and, being who he is, the facility seems more than happy to accommodate the request. As far as Yuri knows, they weren’t even placed on the usual waiting list. True to form, JJ pulled his strings (whatever that entailed) and had them scheduled for an appointment. Yuri would hate him for it if he didn’t also enjoy the benefits of JJ’s fame.

A woman greets them as soon as they enter — an omega, by the smell of her, subtle though it is beneath whatever she uses to mask it. Her copper hair is twisted into a neat french braid. To Yuri’s discerning eye, she looks quite young. In her late twenties, if he had to take a guess. Certainly no older than her early thirties. She’s petite but sturdily built, her physique healthy, but nothing too difficult to maintain. Dressed in a comfortable shirt and simple cotton pants, she looks nothing like the venerable, white-lab-coat-wearing medical professional Yuri was expecting.

“Lea Richard,” she introduces herself. “Please, call me Lea.”

She shakes Yuri’s hand first, her grip confident, her smile warm and approachable. When she moves to shake JJ’s hand next, she looks a bit starry eyed, no doubt completely enchanted by his beautiful eyes and handsome grin, but she disguises it well.

After the introductions are made, Lea leads them to what must be one of the exam rooms. There’s an exam bed and a scale, and a set of cabinets for storage, but also a small sitting area with a comfortable loveseat and armchairs, and a bookshelf displaying pamphlets and knick-knacks and two neat rows of binders. The walls are painted a soft cream, with several pieces of art on display. The window curtains are open to admit as much natural light as possible.

As she guides them to the sitting area, Lea says, “Normally we’d give you a quick tour of the facility, but for the sake of discretion I thought it best to save that for another time.” 

Yuri chooses a spot on the loveseat with JJ, who takes his hand again as soon as they’ve settled.

“Would either of you like anything to drink?” Lea asks. “We have water and juice. There’s coffee, tea, and hot chocolate in the waiting area. I’d be happy to get some for you.”

When both Yuri and JJ decline the offer (gruff and polite respectively), she lowers herself into one of the armchairs, next to a side table that holds an antique lamp and a slim laptop. She folds one of her legs up onto the chair, her position both welcoming and informal. 

“Today will mostly be an introductory period,” she says. “Just to get to know one another. Then we’ll check your vitals and take some blood, but for the most part we’ll be going over your medical history, your symptoms, and any questions or concerns you might have.”

“Right,” Yuri mumbles.

“Unless you decide our practice isn’t for you, or your pregnancy becomes high risk at any point and we transfer you to an OB, you’ll be meeting with me and Adrien Verreau. He’s with another patient this morning, so you might not see him today, but your next appointment will be with him. We’ll alternate appointments between us. At least one of us will be present at the birth, whether that’s here at the birthing center, in hospital, or at your home.”

Though Lea seems pleasant enough, Yuri’s guard remains up for most of the appointment. JJ, of course, has no issue establishing a friendly rapport with her, especially when she discusses some of her background as a midwife, beginning with the extent of her training. Like JJ, she attended university in Toronto, which gives them plenty to talk about.

Anything more companionable than a doctor/patient relationship with Yuri would take far more time than a single appointment allows. Even so, the more he learns about Lea, the more at ease Yuri becomes. She’s only thirty years old, with two young children of her own, and though she remains unmarried, she’s been with her partner for eight years. She was raised in a city called Sherbrooke, which Yuri has no knowledge of, but she’s worked in Montreal since graduating university.

More than anything, Yuri appreciates the fact that she’s a lively young omega instead of a stodgy old know-it-all alpha.

When the conversation comes back around to Yuri’s condition, Lea pulls the laptop onto her thigh and says, “You’re twenty-three?”

“Yes.”

“And you were born in… March, wasn’t it?”

“First of March. 2000.”

“You were a millennium baby,” she observes. “And this is your first pregnancy?”

Yuri answers with a bland, “As far as I’m aware.”

Lea shows a small, amused smile as she enters the information into the computer. “Do you remember what the first day of your last menstrual period was?”

“Uhh…” Yuri pulls out his phone to check the period app he hasn’t touched since he found out he was pregnant. “The fourth of February.”

“That _should_ put you right around eight weeks, but we’ll have a better idea of gestational age once you go in for your dating scan. How have you been feeling?”

“Fine,” he says, until JJ gives his hand a squeeze and Yuri consents to amend his answer. “I feel like shit. I’m puking my guts out. My chest hurts like a bitch. I’m always tired. The usual first trimester bullshit.”

“How’s your appetite been?”

“I want food, but I feel like I’ll puke if I eat anything.”

“Have you experienced any cramping or spotting?”

“Mild cramping at the beginning of March. None since. No spotting.”

Lea follows her survey of his symptoms with his medical history, which Yuri responds to in as much of a flat, emotionless way as he’s able. 

“Any history of mental illness?”

“No." 

“Any history of an eating disorder?”

“ _No_.”

After, Yuri faces the review of his family medical history with detachment.

“My grandmother died from lung cancer and my mother died from leukemia.”

JJ temporarily releases Yuri’s hand, curling his arm around Yuri’s shoulders again. With his free hand, JJ takes Yuri’s wrist and rubs soothing circles into the skin with his thumb. Though they’ve not discussed that part of Yuri’s past, he must have known already. All it would take is a quick Google search into his background.

“Any history of birth defects?” Lea asks.

“Not that I know of.”

“And you, JJ?”

“No, none.”

When Lea opens the discussion to any questions they might have, Yuri simply asks for clarification on exercise and travel before deeming himself sufficiently informed. JJ is the one to ask about future appointments and recommended screening tests, which medications are safe, when they should consider childbirth classes, and what to expect at delivery.

“Only an anesthesiologist can administer an epidural,” Lea says. “So you would need to be in hospital for that. We have nitrous oxide for pain management here at the birthing center. If you decide to give birth here or at home, but decide you want the epidural when you’re in labor, you can easily be transferred to the hospital. Again, if your pregnancy becomes high risk, you’ll be transferred to an OB and give birth in hospital regardless. In that event, we’ll still provide prenatal support and postnatal care.”

She rises once they run out of questions, turning for the bookcase to retrieve one of the many binders that fill the lower two shelves. She hands it to Yuri as she returns to her chair. On the cover is a picture of a sleeping baby, beneath the words “Your Baby Bible & Reference Guide.”

“I make one of these for all of my patients,” she explains. “It’s as comprehensive as I can make it without being overwhelming. Everything we covered today is in there. If you have any other questions or concerns, the information should be in there, too, but if it isn’t, or if you’d rather talk,” she reaches into the drawer on the side table to pass Yuri a business card, “you can give me a call at any time. That’s my contact information. Don’t hesitate to use it.”

Yuri slips the card into one of the binder’s inner pockets.

Lea stares at him very seriously when she says, “Whatever you do, _try_ not to consult Doctor Google. You’ll find a lot of conflicting information by a lot of opinionated people. Trust me, it’ll make you paranoid. Call me for any emergencies. Call or text me if you have questions.”

Hesitantly, Yuri agrees, “Right…”

“Thank you,” JJ says, which is probably what Yuri _should_ have said, but his brain never was as attuned to politeness as JJ’s.

Lea smiles at them both, then stands to her feet again. “Let’s go ahead and do a quick exam, then draw some blood for your labs. Are you good to pee now? We’ll need a urine sample. If not, I can get you some water and we can do it once you’re ready.” 

“I can do it now,” Yuri says, passing off the binder to JJ.

When he returns from the toilet, Lea has him step onto the scale. Yuri frowns and slowly trudges his way over to it, but ultimately does as he’s instructed. He gapes, then cringes at the results.

_53.2 kilograms._

“How tall are you?” Lea asks. 

“178 centimeters,” Yuri grumbles. Hastily, he adds, “I already know I’m underweight.”

“Is that common for you?”

“Yes. It usually fluctuates by a kilo or two in either direction throughout the year.”

“Do you remember what you weighed before you got pregnant?”

Yuri scowls and says, “I was 55.3 in January.”

“What about when you saw your doctor last month?”

“54.5.”

Lea enters the information into the laptop, which she carries cradled in one arm. “Alright, hop up onto the bed for me.”

Yuri steps off the scale. He shoots a confused look in JJ’s direction, but JJ doesn’t seem to find anything odd about the situation, so Yuri turns a puzzled frown onto Lea instead.

“That’s it?” he asks.

“That’s what?” Lea asks, glancing up from her computer.

“That’s all you’re going to say about my weight?”

Lea smiles benignly. “I’ll take that to mean you’ve had a lot of comments about it." 

“Only for my entire life,” Yuri scoffs. 

“You have a small frame to begin with, and it’s not uncommon to lose some weight in the first trimester. We’ll monitor it, but as long as your blood and urine tests come back normal and you gain enough weight during the rest of your pregnancy, there shouldn’t be any issues. People of all shapes and sizes give birth to healthy babies every day.”

“So… it’s not a concern?”

“At the moment, I’m going to say no,” Lea says. What he can detect of her muted scent is soft and comforting, perhaps with some vague amusement layered beneath. “Average weight gain during pregnancy for a mother within a normal weight range is 11.5 to 16 kilos. I’d like to see you gain at _least_ 12.5, but as long as the baby’s growing the way they should, you should be fine. We’ll know more as your pregnancy progresses. If I have to amend my answer later, then I will.”

Yuri glances over to JJ again. For what, he isn’t sure. Agreement or reassurance, maybe. JJ smiles supportively, then shrugs as if to say, “See? You’re fine.”

So Yuri lets the topic drop, a little cautious still, but satisfied to prove Viktor’s bullshit concern unnecessary. He climbs up onto the exam bed and lets Lea continue her work, sitting patiently while she checks his heart rate and blood pressure, then wincing as she briefly examines his growing breasts. He doesn’t have to remove his clothes, at least. He just lifts his shirt and sports bra out of the way as she works. She’s as gentle as possible throughout the entire assessment. Overall, it’s a decidedly stress free experience — the complete opposite of what he was imagining when JJ first set up the appointment.

“When was your last internal exam?” Lea asks as she types a few more notes into her laptop.

“Three weeks ago. I had a physical when I went in for the blood test.”

“And the results were normal?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t push the subject any further than that, simply adds the information to her notes before collecting what she needs to draw some blood.

In all, they spend over an hour at the birthing center. When their appointment wraps up, Lea voices a few more reassurances, asks if they have any further questions, and impresses upon them again to contact her as needed, no matter the time of day.

“There are no silly questions,” she says, “and no stupid concerns.” 

After some polite farewells, several “thank you”s from JJ, and an enthusiastic “It was so nice to meet you!” followed by a “See you soon!” from Lea, Yuri and JJ leave through the same private door they used to enter the building.

Dazed and confused, but not at all displeased, Yuri lets JJ guide him back to the car, where JJ once again opens the passenger side door for him. Yuri at least has the wherewithal to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t complain, climbing in to begin leafing through his binder while JJ circles around to the driver’s side. 

“So…” JJ says, turning sideways in his seat instead of starting the car right away. “Did you like her?”

Yuri looks up from a page about healthy eating and a list of foods to avoid. “She didn’t smother me or pressure me about anything, so yes, she was fine.”

JJ leans closer and reaches over the armrest to pull Yuri into a quick kiss. “I told you today would be a good day.”

Yuri’s lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. He banishes it quickly and answers with an apathetic snort. “There’s still plenty of the day left for bullshit.”

“True,” JJ allows, pressing several more kisses against the side of Yuri’s face. “But now you get your surprise.”

“Which is what?” 

One final peck on the lips, and then JJ is pulling away. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

Yuri frowns sullenly but pulls his seatbelt on as JJ does the same.

He continues to flip through his binder while JJ drives, making a quick perusal of the Q&A, as well as several different diagrams, but their next destination is such a short way down the street, Yuri doesn’t have the chance to make a thorough study of it. In no time at all, JJ has pulled to a stop and cut the engine, turning in his seat again to grace Yuri with a large, excited grin.

What has him so excited, Yuri has no idea. Glancing out the window shows nothing but the parking lot and an expansive building that, judging by the signage, must be the hospital Lea spoke of. One particular sign displays a list of departments, one of which reads “Obstetrics.”

“My surprise is another doctor?” Yuri says. He makes no effort to disguise his disappointment as he meets JJ’s smile with another glare.

JJ grins wide enough to show off his perfect teeth. “Your surprise is that I had you booked for an ultrasound.”

Yuri’s mouth falls open until he finds enough self control to restrain his amazement. “You said I probably wouldn’t be scheduled for one until I’m closer to twelve weeks.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” JJ says.

He looks even more smug than usual, so much so that Yuri almost wants to hit him. Then again, he’d also very much like to kiss him. Given that the latter impulse generally has a more pleasant outcome, Yuri caves to it and surges across the armrest after hastily removing his seatbelt. He grabs JJ by the face with both hands and crushes their mouths together.

This stupid idiot. This absolutely perfect son of a bitch. How can he be so thoughtful and doting, and so utterly charming after their rocky past? How does he do it? How does he give and give and give — tirelessly, with no disappointment, and no resentment when Yuri fails to reciprocate? How can he be so confident about Yuri’s feelings for him when Yuri says nothing and does nothing to confirm them?

The guilt eats at Yuri again. And something else. Something like need, but more ambiguous, without any discernible source, and no appropriate outlet. All he can do is kiss and touch and hope it’s enough, while the guilt twists his stomach and the need clenches his heart.

“Mmmm,” JJ hums against his mouth. “My favorite kind of kisses.”

Yuri doesn’t pull away just yet, hovering close enough that their lips brush when he asks, “What kind?”

JJ lifts his hands to place them over Yuri’s, holding them to his face. “This kind.”

Yuri’s breath stutters as JJ kisses him again. It’s achingly soft — all reverent eyes and warm hands, a gentle brush of lips followed by a nuzzle of noses. Another kiss, and Yuri smoothes his thumbs over JJ’s face. A third, and JJ releases his hands to cup the back of Yuri’s head, touch the side of his neck. Yuri strokes JJ’s beard, thumbs at the freckle on his cheek bone, kisses him again and again, lets his scent surround them, all in an attempt to convey his gratitude and affection.

JJ must know. He smiles comfortingly when they part, brushing at a lock of hair that’s fallen loose from Yuri’s bun. “This is as much for me as it is for you.”

“Impatient?” Yuri says.

“Maybe a little.”

“Then let’s go.”

JJ catches him before Yuri can draw back, resting their foreheads together as he says, “It’ll probably be an internal ultrasound, since it’s still early.”

Yuri snorts, then nips at the tip of JJ’s nose the way JJ often does to him. “They can stick whatever the fuck they want in me if it means we can see the baby.” 

JJ’s laughter, when it’s low and quiet and just for Yuri, is one of the sweetest sounds Yuri has ever heard.

They walk into the building with their arms around one another, through another private entrance, where they’re met by one of the sonographers —  a cheery middle aged woman with kind, dark eyes and short black hair, whose scent is either fully concealed or nonexistent. She greets them much the same way Lea did, with a welcoming smile and a cordial shake of the hand, repressing the admiration Yuri can see in her eyes for the sake of professionalism. Of course she’s smitten with JJ. Everyone in Canada seems to be. These days, Yuri can’t entirely blame them.

Once they’re whisked away to an exam room, they’re given a few moments of privacy for Yuri to remove his shoes, leggings, and underwear. Yuri sits on the exam table in his t-shirt and hoodie, with a paper sheet over his lap. It seems like a useless attempt at privacy given the company, but at least it gives his hands something to pick at while he waits.

“Nervous?” JJ asks.

“A little,” Yuri admits. “Are you?”

His scent is stable, but JJ hasn’t sat down despite the fact that there’s a chair for him nearby. He hovers next to the exam table, smiling confidently even as he says, “I didn’t think I would be, but… yeah.”

Yuri reaches for JJ’s hand and gives his fingers a squeeze just as the sonographer comes back into the room.

The probe, though certainly not the most comforting sight to behold, is a negligible size compared to either of the dicks he’s ever had inside of him. The sonographer explains the process to him and Yuri nods along, internally cringing while keeping an impassive face. He lies back on the exam table with his legs propped up and open, staring up at the ceiling as the probe is inserted. It’s uncomfortable but not painful, and, in his opinion, preferable to lying through an internal exam.

JJ remains beside him, holding his hand in the darkened room while the sonographer takes a tour of Yuri’s nether regions. There’s nothing to see at first, as the monitor faces the sonographer more than it faces either of them. Yuri catches JJ’s eye and relaxes more at the sight of his smile. He has no idea where to put his other hand, so he lets it drop onto his chest, where his heart beats rapidly against his palm.

He’s seen ultrasound photos before. Plenty of them, in fact. He watched the videos Georgi and Nadya took the first time the saw both Pavel and Lidiya. He kept a copy of the ultrasound photo of Luna that Guang Hong sent him in a text message. He accompanied Viktor and Yuuri to one of their scans and saw Karina before they even knew they were having a little girl. He’s read countless books and seen enough online that he knows exactly what to expect. 

Yet, the moment the sonographer turns the monitor toward them, Yuri’s breath is almost completely taken away.

“This is your uterus,” the sonographer says, moving her finger over the screen in a wide arc, pointing out a shape that must be obvious to her but could have gone unnoticed by Yuri. “This dark area right here is amniotic fluid." 

At first, it’s little more than a black, oblong blob in the middle of the screen, but the image shifts as the sonographer manipulates the probe, and a grainy gray shape appears within it.

“And then here in the middle is your baby.”

“Holy shit,” JJ whispers.

Yuri’s heart skips a beat and his throat tightens. He squeezes JJ’s hand reflexively.

The sonographer presses a button and a small green crosshair appears on the screen. With it, she points to the roundest part of the gray shape, toward the bottom of the amniotic fluid.

“This is the head,” she explains, before moving the crosshair upward. “And this is the body. If you look right here, you can see the heartbeat.”

It’s nothing but a small, rapid flicker on the screen, but Yuri stares at it obsessively.

“On either side here we have the arms.” The crosshair moves from one side to the other, over what appear to be short stumps of limbs. “Up here are the legs. They’re a little hard to see right now.” She manipulates the probe again until the image clears up enough that the beginnings of legs are more visible.

“There’s just one baby, right?” JJ jokes.

The sonographer laughs quietly. “Yup, just one.”

There are a few clicks and beeps, and a long box appears on one side of the screen, but Yuri can’t tear his eyes away from the baby long enough to determine what it is.

“I’m going to do a measurement. This one will give us an idea about how far along you are.”

With the crosshair, she creates a line down the length of the baby. With another click and a beep, the relevant information is highlighted at the bottom of the screen.

“Eight weeks and five days.”

“Your app’s off by three days, babe,” JJ says. “Look. Due 8 November.”

What that might mean, Yuri has no desire to consider right now. He nods but doesn’t look at whatever JJ’s pointing to. His eyes remain intently focused on the heartbeat until, suddenly, the tiny figure shifts from side to side.

“Did it just move?” Yuri chokes out.

“Yup, there they go again,” the sonographer says as the baby gives another short wiggle. “It’ll be a while before you can feel it, but… there, see the little arm moving?”

She holds the image there to let them watch for a while. Yuri’s mouth curls up ever so slightly as the baby’s arms shifts around. It almost seems to be waving, though, in reality, it’s probably nothing more than random spasms. When the baby goes still again, Yuri tears his eyes away long enough to glance at JJ, who has his phone pointed at the screen.

“Are you recording?

Briefly, JJ turns the camera toward him. “So we can show everyone once we tell them.” 

Yuri couldn’t care less about that. More than anything, he’s happy to have the video to watch whenever they want. 

The sonographer clicks a few more buttons and measures down the length of the baby again. The results are the same the second time. Eight weeks and five days.

“Let’s listen to the heartbeat,” she says only moments later.

Yuri’s eyes return to the flickering heart again. In seconds, a loud, fast whump-whump-whump-whump fills the room.

His eyes blur before he can think to hold the emotions back. For years, this has been nothing more than a dream. Even over the last few weeks, it hasn’t felt real. But with that sound, faster than his own pounding heart, he’s struck by the realization for the first time. The baby is no longer a fantasy, but an actual person.

Whether or not life has truly started is not a subject he cares to explore. What matters in that moment is that his baby exists. His baby, provided all goes well, will live and breathe. His baby will learn and grow. His baby will develop its own personality. His baby will look like him, or JJ, or some combination of them both, or maybe like Deda or Mama or one of JJ’s parents. One day later in the year, he will have his baby in his arms. He’ll hear the baby cry. He’ll feed the baby from his own breast. He’ll rock the baby to sleep and listen to JJ sing them lullabies. He’ll hold the baby and Melody together. He’ll watch them play.

When JJ leans down to kiss Yuri’s forehead, Yuri turns to him again. Those beautiful silver-blue eyes are wet with tears. Yuri catches JJ’s mouth before JJ can pull away, lifting a hand to the back of JJ’s neck to hold him in place. 

Something squeezes his heart — that same sense of need he experienced in the car. This time, parts of the feeling are recognizable. Gratitude mixes with longing. The gratitude he understands. He would not be here without JJ. But what could he possibly long for when he has what he’s wanted for so long? When JJ is right here? When everything seems so perfect?

“Now we’ll pause and measure the heart rate,” the sonographer says.

Yuri draws his hand away from JJ’s neck as they both look back at the screen, but he doesn’t untangle their fingers.

“174 beats per minute.”

“And that’s good?” JJ asks.

“It’ll lower as the pregnancy progresses, but right now that’s right where it should be.”

She manipulates the probe to look around the rest of Yuri’s pelvic area, taking more measurements as she goes. Too overwhelmed to truly listen to any more of what she says, Yuri lies there and struggles to keep his tears from falling. She might look at his ovaries at one point; it all seems good, whatever she’s doing, and that’s enough for him. Eventually, she shows them the baby again, who starts wiggling moments after it appears on the screen.

A couple of tears fall before Yuri can stop them, sliding from the corners of his eyes into his hair. Quickly, Yuri brushes them away.

Something like nervous energy crackles through him as this second appointment comes to an end, a sort of anxiety he only ever experiences when meeting someone new — someone with influence over the future of his career, perhaps, such as a sponsor, or a member of the Russian Skating Federation. He’s jerky and uncoordinated as he pulls his underwear and leggings back on, all stiff limbs and shaking hands, grabbing at JJ for support every time the unsteadiness threatens to overtake him. He has no outlet for this feeling, and therefore no clue how to calm it.

They leave the hospital with a long sheet of pictures. Yuri keeps them hidden in the pocket of his hoodie on their way out of the building, one hand clutching at them while he tucks himself back against JJ’s side, his other arm tight around JJ’s waist. The strange anxiety persists, setting his nerves ablaze like an electric current. As soon as they’ve made it back to the car, Yuri pushes JJ against the passenger side door, crashing their mouths together in a slow, deep kiss. He can think of no other solution but to press his body as close to JJ’s as possible.

Upon breaking the kiss, JJ pulls back and says, “You’re having my baby.”

He looks giddy — his smile bright, and his scent strong with elation. There’s pride there, too. JJ looks into Yuri’s eyes as if Yuri is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Yuri can’t quite believe that that’s true, be he throws his arms around JJ’s neck anyway, mumbling against his mouth, “Let’s go home.”

“Do you want to stop for lunch on the way?” JJ asks.

“No,” Yuri says, emphasizing his answer with another firm press of lips. “I want to go home and fuck.”

JJ releases a breathy laugh. This time, Yuri abandons the walls around his heart and tips his head to join him.

* * *

[A picture of Yuri sitting at the dining table, typing away on his laptop. He’s in a hoodie and sweatpants, with his hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. A mug of tea sits nearby. Next to him, Melody sits in her highchair eating pieces of banana, with a big polkadot bow in her hair and a bib that says “These fools put my cape on backwards.”]

**102,329 likes**

**Jjleroy!15** The two most beautiful people on Earth. #happiness #family #lovinglife #bestboyfriend #sweatpea #myangels #princessmelody #melmel #mymelody #babygirl

 **leo_de_la_iglesia** You’ve got it bad bro  
**Jjleroy!15** @leo_de_la_iglesia I have no regrets  
**mila-babicheva** Any temper tantrums from the moody kitten?  
**Jjleroy!15** @mila-babicheva No nothing explosive  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 I’m shocked  
**yuri_plisetsky** @mila-babicheva @Jjleroy!15 I’m not a child anymore  
**mila-babicheva** @Jjleroy!15 @yuri_plisetsky Could have fooled me  
**yuri_plisetsky** You’re gross  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky You like it  
**yuri_plisetsky** @Jjleroy!15 I don’t remember saying that  
**Jjleroy!15** @yuri_plisetsky But you don’t tell me to stop  
**sophie-leroy00** Gag  
**yuri_plisetsky** @sophie-leroy00 You’re the one who’s getting married  
**sophie-leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky The way you two act, you could be married already  
**yuri_plisetsky** @sophie-leroy00 Bullshit  
**Jjleroy!15** @sophie-leroy00 @yuri_plisetsky We can’t help that we’re perfect for one another  
**sophie-leroy00** @yuri_plisetsky @Jjleroy!15 Ugh

APRIL 4

* * *

On Wednesday morning, the fifth of April, JJ dons one of his many stylish suits and meets Isabella at court to finalize the divorce.

Yuri stays behind at the house with Melody, searching for something to distract himself with, expecting that things might fall apart at any moment, as his thoughts turn insidious. He puts on a movie, which keeps Melody entertained for half an hour before she starts squirming around. He lowers her into her bouncer and makes himself a cup of tea to soothe his upset stomach. When Melody fusses at him to pick her back up, they settle onto the couch again, where they spend some time FaceTiming Lilia. Yuri updates her on the happenings of the week; he texted her one of the ultrasound photos on Monday, but they’ve not yet discussed much of the events of that day.

“Have you considered where you would like to give birth?” Lilia asks him.

“I only just hit nine weeks today,” Yuri grumbles, bouncing Melody in his lap. “I have seven more months to decide.”

“You have a habit of putting things off. You can’t do that with a pregnancy.”

“I’ll figure it out before the baby comes. I already know I don’t want to do it at home.”

“And you’re still taking your prenatal vitamin?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to hound me about this shit anymore. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. I take it every morning when I eat breakfast.”

“I worry,” Lilia says, her expression somewhat softer than usual.

The guilty turn of Yuri’s stomach is becoming an increasingly familiar phenomenon.

Lilia must be lonely. He’s spent the last eight years with her. From the time he was fifteen, he saw her almost every day even after he moved into his own place. He lived in her home. He sat with her in the sitting room each evening, watching television or reading one of the many books she has scattered around her apartment. She brushed his hair and made him tea. She took care of him whenever he fell ill. She accompanied him to Moscow everytime Deda was hospitalized, even when it was nothing more than a minor ailment. She let Yuri lean on her for support, which he did almost without question.

Now they’re separated by a continent and an ocean, with a time difference of seven or eight hours depending on daylight savings time in Canada. And it happened so quickly, Lilia might not have had the chance to properly prepare herself for it. She has Yakov, of course. She’s grown fond of Yuuri, Nadya, and the children, too. But it won’t be the same.

“I’m fine,” Yuri reassures her, evening his voice out as much as he can, though he knows it won’t diminish her concern. “Even if I wasn’t, JJ would take care of it.”

“Have you told his family yet?”

“No. We’re going to this weekend.”

At that moment, Potya jumps up onto the couch with Lilia, nuzzling into her side. Lilia strokes a hand over Potya’s fur and encourages her to sit in her lap so Yuri can see her more clearly.

“Melenka, look,” Yuri says, speaking to the baby in Russian. He stills her bouncing and shifts closer to the computer screen, pointing to it once her gaze focuses on it. “Do you see the kitty? That’s Potya. She’s going to come stay with us soon.”

Melody coos and smiles. Potya approaches the screen and starts sniffing around, perhaps in response to the sound of Yuri’s voice.

“Potya,” Yuri calls to her. “Are you being good?”

“When is she not good?” Lilia asks, pulling Potya back into her lap to pet her and scratch at her cheeks. Almost instantly, Potya’s loud purring can be heard through the computer.

Melody blows bubbles and reaches toward the screen, giggling as Potya’s mouth stretches open in a wide yawn. Yuri tells her all about Potya even if she’s too young to understand, while Lilia sits and listens, and occasionally offers a few anecdotes of her own. The smile on Lilia’s face is so small it’s practically imperceptible, but it’s clear by the gentle set of her eyes that she finds Melody endearing.

After they’ve said their goodbyes, Yuri spends some time on the floor with Melody. He places her on her stomach and sits a short distance away from her, cross-legged as he encourages her forward. She’s been dragging herself along with her arms for quite a while now, but she still can’t seem to figure out how to get her knees beneath her. She kicks her legs as she pulls herself toward him, looking very much like she’s trying to swim on land. When she gets close, Yuri shifts back to put more space between them, laughing quietly as she fusses.

“Melenka,” he croons. “If you want me, you have to come get me.”

She swims forward again, shouting her frustration when he slides back a second time. Yuri laughs at her angry face, scrunched up in displeasure.

This continues for a while longer, until Melody puts her head onto the floor and starts to cry. Yuri scoops her up and instinctively presses a kiss to her cheek in comfort, freezing in place as soon as he realizes what he’s just done.

He hugs Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina all the time. He kisses them just as often. He’s held Melody quite comfortably since the day they first met in Toronto, cradling her to his chest or his shoulder to comfort her, putting his nose to her hair or neck to breathe in her faint scent. She likes him well enough; she reaches for JJ far more often, but that’s to be expected. At least she isn’t scared to be with him when JJ isn’t around. She smiles and laughs and plays with him. She pulls his hair and sticks it into her mouth, and she clumsily claps along when they play hand games.

But he hasn’t kissed her. Until now, at least. That first week in Toronto, it didn’t seem appropriate, given that he was such a new presence in her life. In Naples, too, Yuri thought it best to hold back, despite the fact that she seemed excited to see him again. Even over the last week and a half, as he’s settled more comfortably into his new life in Montreal, where they’ve been able to spend more quality time together, Yuri has remained cautious. What if he oversteps? Is it even a good idea to let himself grow so attached, when there’s no telling how to rest of this year is going to play out? 

Does it matter? What would the outcome of his relationship with JJ change about his feelings for Melody? No matter what the future holds for them, Yuri won’t be another Isabella.

With a heavy sigh, Yuri kisses Melody’s cheek again — hesitant still, but stubborn enough to push through it.

She is JJ’s baby, and _he_ is JJ’s boyfriend. They’re something like a family now, in their own way. Or the beginnings of one, at least. He’ll be giving birth to Melody’s little brother or sister before the year is through. He isn’t Melody’s mother, but Yuri feels responsible for her all the same. He never had any intention of entering into a relationship with JJ without including her. Granted, he never intended to start a relationship with JJ to begin with, but the fact remains that Melody’s presence in his world is incontrovertible. She’s an important piece of JJ’s life, and, in certain respects, she’s become an important piece of Yuri’s life, too.

He’s fond of her. Perhaps more than he realistically should be, given how little time they’ve had to know one another. He treasures her smiles, and her grabby hands. Her tears rouse an instinctive protectiveness within him. He takes comfort from her scent, mild though it may be this early in life, and he likes to think, during those moments when she voluntarily puts her head to his shoulder, that Melody takes comfort from his scent, too.

They curl up together on the couch while Yuri feeds Melody her mid-morning bottle. Her warm little body relaxes as she drinks. By the time she’s emptied the bottle, she’s nearly fallen asleep. Yuri rocks her until she goes completely limp, then carefully carries her upstairs to set her down in her crib.

He stands and watches her sleep for a while, stroking a gentle finger over one round cheek, as his thoughts quickly shift back to JJ. Yuri’s stomach churns with impatience, and the familiar bubble of nausea tickles the back of his throat.

Determined as he is to make their relationship work, this part of it — the legal end of JJ’s marriage — is the one thing Yuri has absolutely no control over, and thus, by extension, happens to be the one thing he craves most to control. Sitting at home waiting for news does nothing to relieve the fraying of his nerves, not when JJ has to deal with Isabella’s bullshit on his own. Having a lawyer there is all well and good, but a lawyer won’t fight for him quite as passionately as Yuri would if given the chance.

And he _would_ fight — not to keep JJ, which at this point would be unnecessary, but to avenge him, and to protect him from further heartache. Isabella has done enough damage. Yuri couldn’t care less what she might say or do to him if they ever found themselves face to face again, so long as she does nothing else to harm either JJ or Melody.

Minutes later, when the insidious thoughts wreck further havoc on his brain, Yuri pulls himself away from Melody’s room and darts into the bathroom, where he sits in front of the toilet as his stomach threatens to send his breakfast back up his throat. He rests his forehead against the cool porcelain rim and forces himself to take slow, deep, calming breaths.

This is the exact kind of stupid, complicated shit he never wanted to be involved in.

He shouldn’t be so apprehensive. What could go wrong? What can Isabella do at this point, when the divisions have been made and the custody arrangements have been agreed upon? At worst, she’d try to sabotage the divorce out of spite. But what good would that do? She’s the one who’d have to live legally married to a man who’s fucking someone else. JJ won’t go back to her — Yuri has no doubts about that — and Melody won’t ever be hers, even if Isabella decides to step up and make an effort to be a parent one day.

Everything is going to be _fine_ , he tells himself.

If only he could make himself believe it.

Without Melody to serve as a distraction, Yuri is left to listlessly wander the house. Once his stomach has settled enough that he’s not about to puke at less than a moment’s notice, he withdraws downstairs and busies himself with housework. Melody’s toys are collected and neatly arranged in the corner of the living-room. The dirty dishes in the sink are placed in the dishwasher. The floor is swept. The pile of shoes quickly forming by the front door are put away.

Yuri has another cup of tea steeping on the counter when his phone vibrates with a text message.

That JJ offers nothing further should alleviate some of the apprehension. Certainly he’d have more to say if things fell apart; if JJ was angry or upset, he would call. But Yuri’s unstable insides give another uncomfortable turn, and he reacts before he can think better of advertising his anxiety.

_Let it be done,_ he finds himself asking of no one in particular. _Let it be over._

He doesn’t know who or what he expects to grant his request. Fate, maybe, or the God he doesn’t often care to consider.

  
Even in Yuri’s relief, nausea rises on a wave. He swallows through it, forcing another deep breath into his lungs. As he waits the twenty minutes remaining until JJ arrives home, Yuri curls up on the couch and drinks his tea, searching the internet for news. JJ’s fame ensures that word travels fast. Yuri has barely spent five minutes on his blogger alter ego’s twitter account when the first headline appears on his timeline, complete with pictures of JJ and Isabella leaving the courthouse separately. 

The defeated expression on Isabella’s face is such a satisfying sight. When he notices it, an aimless thought seeps into Yuri’s brain: _I win_. 

Not that he actually _did_ anything. Maybe he would have, if given the chance, but the fact remains that JJ and Isabella separated before he and JJ were together. A majority of the divorce proceedings occurred while he remained completely unaware that their marriage had been terminated. Yuri did nothing to prompt any of this. He had no influence over JJ’s decision — or if he did, if their one night stand at the Olympics helped JJ make up his mind in any way, Yuri never knew about it. More than likely, whatever happened in that courtroom today had nothing to do with him at all, except that JJ’s newfound freedom allows for their relationship to continue unobstructed.

But this still feels like a victory.

 _I win_.

He’s up on his feet as soon as he hears JJ at the door, empty mug discarded on the coffee table as he rounds the couch to throw himself onto JJ before JJ even has the chance to close the door behind him. Yuri crushes his mouth to JJ’s in a bruising kiss, drinking in the startled moan that slips from between JJ’s lips, and the deeper rumble of contentment that resonates through JJ’s chest after.

JJ finishes shutting the door and drops his keys where they stand, warm hands diving under the baggy JJ Style t-shirt Yuri wore to bed last night. Yuri melts at his touch, pressing tight against him, chest to chest, like he can climb through JJ’s rib cage and nestle into place next to his heart. He opens his mouth to JJ’s tongue as JJ wastes no time backing him against the wall. Yuri hangs there, not quite limp, but heavy in JJ’s arms, basking in the scent of affection and desire that seems to seep from JJ’s every pore. 

Far too soon, JJ pulls out of the kiss, drawing back just enough that he can nip at Yuri’s nose and announce, “I’m a free man.”

Yuri’s hands tighten around JJ’s jaw. He snorts and counters, “I beg to differ.”

“Okay,” JJ concedes, his breath fanning over Yuri’s face on a laugh, “but I’m unmarried.” He pulls back to meet Yuri with a suggestive arch of his thick eyebrows. “Unless you actually _do_ want to elope.” 

Yuri scoffs and frowns reprovingly. “You joke about getting married an awful lot for someone who claims they don’t care to do it again.” 

JJ’s grin broadens. “I like the horrified look on your face when I do.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and pushes JJ’s face away. JJ chuckles quietly and ducks down to trail his mouth along the side of Yuri’s neck.

“Were you worried?” JJ asks after a conspicuously deep inhale.

“No,” Yuri lies, though his answer does nothing to curb the thick cloud of satisfaction around JJ, or the smug grin quickly developing on his handsome face.

They kiss again when JJ rises — all eager lips, possessive tongues, and the occasional soft bite of playful teeth. Yuri sinks his hands into neatly styled black hair, which becomes a tousled mess in seconds as Yuri cards his fingers through it. JJ releases a pleasured groan when Yuri firms his grip, one arm tight around Yuri’s waist, while his free hand glides over as much pale skin as he can reach. Yuri tips JJ’s head to a better angle, pressing soothing fingertips against JJ’s scalp as his tongue pulls several more low moans out of JJ’s throat.

“Mine,” Yuri whispers against JJ’s mouth, heart pounding so fast he can hardly breathe. 

“Yours,” JJ agrees. “As long as you’ll have me.” 

Yuri won’t say forever, even if that’s exactly what a tiny voice in his head demands.

He doesn’t have the chance to linger on the thought. JJ’s lips are on him again in an instant, sucking on his neck, wringing little sighs and moans out of Yuri as he marks up the skin, adding multiple red blemishes to the purple bruises from earlier in the week. JJ’s hands press against his skin, greedy in their exploration of his smooth back, the trim dip of his waist, the curve of his ass.

Yuri sinks further, and when JJ slips a thick, muscled thigh between his legs, any delusions Yuri may have had that this greeting might end _without_ a good, hard, celebratory fuck against the wall are put to rest with the instinctive parting of his legs.

He may never know how to adequately express himself — not his fears, or his hopes, or the thoughts that set his heart racing every time he looks into JJ’s eyes. He may never know what words to use to explain the sense of gratitude and longing that’s only grown stronger in the days since his pregnancy began to feel more real. He may never know how to make JJ understand what he means to him, event after all this time — _especially_ after all this time. He isn’t even sure he understands it himself.

But he can do this. He can kiss deep and swallow the moans from JJ’s mouth. He can touch with soft hands, in ways that are as close to reverent as he’s ever been. He can throw his legs around JJ and accept him into his body, press as close as he can and hold JJ to him, so that he can feel JJ’s heart beat through his chest and know it beats for him.

Yuri tugs JJ’s tie lose and opens the collar of his dress shirt. He tears at JJ’s shirt buttons, popping as many free as he can before he becomes annoyed by their stubborn resistance. He lifts his hands back to JJ’s face, cradling it tenderly while he grinds his hardening cock against JJ’s thigh.

“Bella said I need to shave,” JJ says when the tips of Yuri’s fingers scratch through his beard. His eyes twinkle with mirth. By the amusement in his scent, it’s obvious he knows exactly what reaction his comment will get.

Yuri groans his disapproval and slaps at JJ’s shoulder. “Don’t talk about your wife when you have your hands up my shirt.”

“Ex wife,” JJ corrects him, mouthing down to Yuri’s jaw. Pleasure suffuses his scent at the correction. Yuri feels a thrill of excitement at the term, too. “And it’s _my_ shirt.”

“What’s yours is mine,” Yuri says.

JJ lets out a low, rumbling chuckle right by Yuri’s ear. He doesn’t argue, just dips his hands back down toward Yuri’s ass, fingers playing along the waistband of his briefs.

“Have you just given up on pants altogether?” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Yuri swears with less energy than usual. “I’m allowed to be comfortable when I’m at home.”

“Mmmm.” JJ takes Yuri’s earlobe between his teeth and gives it a tug, then soothes the area with a flick of his tongue and the tender press of slightly chapped lips. “I like when you call it that.”

“Call what that? What is that?”

JJ pulls back to look him in the eye and says, “Home.”

Perhaps Yuri shouldn’t be so embarrassed. He’s been calling this place home since he arrived. And that is in essence what it is, whether or not they’ve spoken much about the length of Yuri’s stay. The plans they made before they were aware of his pregnancy were set to end with the summer. They would spend time in Montreal, then Yuri would travel to Almaty for his scheduled visit. They would meet again in Saint Petersburg for a short while, before heading on to Moscow. After, they would return to Montreal for the rest of the off season, and then…

Well, nothing was set in stone after that. They were meant to see how things progressed and make their decision from there.

Now they’re having a baby, and the thought of returning to Russia at the end of the summer appeals to Yuri even less than before.

Of course he misses his family — both Deda and the various other members he’s collected over the years. Of course he wants to be with them when he can. Of course he worries about them; the distance is painful, and he feels guilty for leaving when Pavel, Lidiya, and Karina are still so young.

But he can’t let this opportunity pass him by. He has to see where this road is going to take him, for as long as he can. 

In spite of it all, Yuri’s cheeks warm, and he stumbles over a response. “It’s just… habit. What the fuck else am I supposed to—”

JJ kisses him quiet. It’s a delicate thing, nothing more than a chaste caress of lips, but it’s enough to leave Yuri aching. 

“I want you,” JJ murmurs against his mouth.

And Yuri doesn’t know if he means like this, pressed against the wall with the scent of their arousal heavy between them, or here in this house, the way they’ve been these last eight days.

More than likely he means all of it. Everything at once.

Yuri nods rapidly, because the words he means to say get stuck in his throat as soon as he opens his mouth to respond. He sucks a breath into a pair of lungs that suddenly don’t remember how to function, working his throat until he can force the words out, voice low and hoarse as he says for the very first time, “I want you.”

He brings his hands back to JJ’s face, smoothes his fingers over JJ’s cheeks, runs his thumbs along JJ’s beard as JJ plants the next kiss against his forehead.

“You piece of shit,” Yuri says — to save face, maybe, or to stress his point when he repeats himself. “I want you.”

The scent of JJ’s joy in that moment is like nothing Yuri has ever sensed from anyone else, and he knows, with a certainty he has rarely felt, that he could spend the rest of his life drowning in it, and he would know happiness the likes of which he has never experienced before.

There’s little else to say after that. Certainly they need no other words, when they can look one another in the eye and see their every thought reflected back at them, when they can kiss and know that the feelings they have for one another, while nameless, are some of the most profound they’ve ever felt — deep and all-consuming in a way that frightens Yuri as much as it exhilarates him.

They fuck, not on the couch or upstairs in the comfort of their bed, but right there in the entryway. Yuri fumbles JJ’s belt open, unfastens his button and fly and pulls JJ’s cock out while JJ slides Yuri’s briefs off. Then his legs are around JJ, and JJ is thrusting into him, and Yuri clings to JJ as they rock together, devouring JJ’s mouth as JJ’s hands dive back under his shirt — one arm locked around Yuri’s waist to hold him steady, the other caressing up his side, shirt rucked halfway up Yuri’s torso.

Gently, through the sports bra Yuri wears to shield his sore chest, JJ brushes the pad of his thumb over one of Yuri’s oversensitive nipples, wringing a shamelessly loud cry from him.

“Too much?” JJ asks, voice low and husky with his erratic breaths.

Yuri shakes his head even if the answer is “yes.” It _is_ too much, but at the same time it’s so agonizingly _good_. His chest throbs as sharp bolts of pleasure sizzle through him, curling low, hot in the very center of him, where JJ’s hard cock spears him open.

These days, it doesn’t take much before he’s ready. More often than not, all he needs is the smell of JJ when he stares too long, a certain curve to JJ’s smile, or the right twinkle in JJ’s eye, and Yuri is wet and aching in moments, craving JJ’s touch, the taste of his mouth, the sense of completion that fills him the very second JJ thrusts inside. Perhaps it’s a side effect of his pregnancy, a pleasurable one to make up for all puking and the fatigue, or perhaps it has nothing to do with his changing body at all. Maybe it’s purely psychological, a result of having JJ so close after all the years of denial that kept them apart.

Through the delirium of desire, Yuri marvels over JJ’s beauty — the flush to his cheeks, and the light of passion in eyes; the rich strands of black falling over his forehead, and the parting of his full lips. Yuri’s hands remain planted against JJ’s face as all those instincts he’s rarely experienced, or, in some cases, fought to suppress or deny, surge forth without warning. 

In his youth, Yuri was never the nurturing type. Even now, he struggles to extend those nurturing pieces of himself beyond the children. But more and more in recent months, those impulses have grown to include JJ, slowly at first, then rapidly as their contact increased. Yuri wants JJ to be happy. He wants to see JJ smile, hear JJ laugh, smell JJ’s contentment. He wants to watch JJ succeed, on the ice or the stage, or anywhere, however JJ might choose. He wants to ease all of JJ’s sadness and pain and regret, so that JJ can be as lively and free as he was when they first met, back when Yuri had no idea what was in store for them. 

“I want you,” Yuri says, over and over again through his moaning. “I want you. I _want_ you.”

He cups JJ’s strong jaw, smoothes his thumbs over JJ’s beard, and draws him into another deep kiss.

Somehow, Yuri has found something in JJ, something that, against all logic, feels as close to perfection as he’s ever been.

It would make no sense, except that nothing else has ever felt so right.

A noise breaks through Yuri’s awareness, a quiet whine that comes from neither him nor JJ. The voice is too high, the sound of it tinny and distant, as if through a speaker. At first, he thinks he might have imagined it, because it fades away before long, and all that Yuri hears again are gasps and groans and the wet sounds of their fucking. Then it cuts through again, louder this time, and he recognizes it as Melody, her fussing quiet but growing steadily stronger through the baby monitor on the kitchen counter.

“ _Fuck_ ,” JJ says, hips faltering. 

“Keep going,” Yuri moans against his mouth. “I’m almost—… I’m so fucking close. Keep going, I can—”

JJ’s thrusts turn hard and purposeful. The hand under Yuri’s shirt slips beneath his bra, caressing Yuri’s nipple directly, the sensation ten times more intense against the rough pad of JJ’s thumb. Yuri’s eyes roll back and his head tips, knocking against the wall. His cock pulses. He drops a hand to it, stroking fast and desperate as his orgasm builds. 

“ _Fuck_ , JJ. Fuck, _yes,_ like that!”

He comes at the first subtle swelling of JJ’s knot, when JJ’s thumb and forefinger pinch his nipple, hand cupping the small, soft mound of his growing breast. Yuri jerks and tenses and gasps for air, lights popping behind his eyelids as JJ’s knot continues to drag against his insides, tight but not yet full. Instinctively, Yuri grabs at him, bringing JJ’s face to his neck, moaning through the waves of pleasure crashing through his body.

Melody’s fussing reaches his ears again seconds later, louder now, as she wakes and cries in earnest. Yuri forces his eyes open and fights through the sluggishness of his own satisfaction. He smacks at JJ’s shoulder, too light to hurt but enough of a jolt to get his attention.

“Let me down,” Yuri pants. “I can get her.”

“ _Fuck_.” A disappointed groan vibrates through JJ’s throat, but he pulls out after one last frantic thrust and sets Yuri back onto his feet.

Yuri kisses him, three quick pecks to his mouth as he cards a soothing hand through JJ’s hair. “Sorry.”

“‘S fine,” JJ gasps. Arousal still saturates his scent. “Get Mel.”

Ducking around him, Yuri heads for the stairs on shaking legs. He trips on his discarded underwear, making a mad grab for the banister before he can fall. Behind him, JJ chokes out a laugh. Yuri snorts and tries to shoot a disapproving look over his shoulder, but the sight of JJ with a hand around his cock banishes the look before it can settle onto his face. He pauses to watch, gaze heated and mouth watering, then lurches back out of his fantasies at another one of Melody’s frustrated cries.

The climb up the stairs is slow and unsteady. Yuri scrambles up to the landing, ducking into the bathroom long enough to wash his hands. He wipes them dry on his shirt instead of lingering around to use a towel, stumbling his way into Melody’s room.

Only to find her big blue eyes staring at him over the edge of the crip instead of between the wooden slats.

Yuri stops, putting a hand to the wall for balance. Melody stops crying and stares at him, gasping and sniffling before her mouth opens into a smile. She has a tight grip on the side of the crib with her hands, feet pressed firmly to the mattress as she stands.

She coos at him. Yuri responds with a startled chuckle.

“JJ,” Yuri says — then louder, so JJ can hear him through the baby monitor, “JJ, you need to come upstairs and see what your daughter has done.”

It takes about a minute or so for JJ to make his ways up. Yuri stands frozen by the wall in the hopes that Melody will stay exactly as she is. She continues to coo and babble at him, which Yuri replies to with soft praises and encouragement. 

When JJ arrives, he’s flushed and breathless, suit jacket barely clinging to his shoulders, tie loose around his neck, shirt untucked, half unbuttoned, and wet with cum in patches, trousers still unfastened but cock put away. He collapses against the doorframe, leaning heavily as his bright eyes widen and his hands press over his heart.

“Oh no!” he exclaims, but he’s smiling joyously and his eyes dance with pride. “Melody, look what you did! Did you stand up all by yourself?”

Melody giggles and lets go of the crib with one hand, reaching over the edge toward JJ.

Yuri goes to her, grabbing her under the arms to lift her out. She nuzzles into his shoulder, tears drying against his t-shirt. Yuri kisses her hair and breathes her in, turning toward JJ to bring her to him.

JJ strokes her cheek with the hand not dirty with cum, then rains quick kisses all over her face.

“Stop growing,” he says. “My heart can’t take it.”

“A-da-da-da-da!” Melody babbles.

JJ rears back with a laugh, smile stretching so wide it’s nearly split his face in half. “I’m Papa, not Dada!”

“She isn’t saying ‘Dada.’ She’s saying ‘Da,’” Yuri says. When JJ looks at him in momentary confusion, Yuri explains, “She’s saying ‘yes.’ In Russian.”

“You’re sure?” JJ asks, glancing between his daughter and Yuri.

“Da.”

JJ beams at Melody, taking her from Yuri with one arm. She clings to him as soon as he has her, head lowering onto JJ’s shoulder, little nose pressed close to his neck as she breathes. Yuri’s insides go warm and gooey as he watches her relax. He strokes a hand along her back, savoring the warmth of her.

“I was hoping for Papa as her first word, but I guess I can live with ‘da,’” JJ says. He drops his cheek onto Melody’s head as he asks her, “Aren’t you the smartest girl in the whole world?”

Again, Melody babbles, “A-da-da-da-da!”

Yuri swells with pride. Just a little. Enough that his chest feels tight with it, and an emotional lump clogs his throat. He swallows through it and fights his stupid hormones before his eyes can water, but when JJ catches his eye and smiles a soft, content little smile, Yuri’s heart clenches and his stomach does a few precarious somersaults.

 _I win,_ Yuri thinks.

And he knows it’s true this time, because that tender smile and the warm affection in JJ’s eyes are worth far more than any gold medal Yuri has ever won.

* * *

 **Angel babe** @1cefang1rl

Other people have said it but it keeps getting drowned out under all the rest of the talk so I’m just going to say it here and now: 

What if Yurochka’s pregnant?????????

11:23 AM - 7 April 2023

 **39** Retweets **287** Likes

 

 **Angel babe** @1cefang1rl

I mean think about it.

He withdraws from worlds with barely any explanation.

He’s taking a hiatus next season, also with no explanation.

11:24 AM - 7 April 2023

 **26** Retweets     **221** Likes

 

 **Angel babe**  @1cefang1rl

And have you seen what he’s been wearing recently??? I mean okay sure it’s cute that he’s wearing a lot of JJ’s clothes, but he looks like an omega trying to hide a pregnancy if you ask me.

11:25 AM - 7 April 2023

 **19** Retweets  **234** likes

 

 **Snow Angel** @megmegegg - 12m

I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING.

He almost looks like a zombie, he’s so pale and tired all the time.

 

 **Angelbabe** @1cefang1rl - 9m

Appropriate, since it’s almost zombie jesus day

 

 **Yulia** @bloggerqueen0_0 - 5m

Could we maybe not do this dumb shit where a pretty omega gets a significant other and everyone suddenly starts spreading around baby rumors that might not be true????

LEAVE YUROCHKA ALONE

LET HIM GET SOME DICK IN PEACE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to end this chapter with Isabella finding out, but if I moved on to another scene I'd probably reach 30,000 words before I was done and I didn't want to make it that long. So, the rest of the reveals will happen next chapter!
> 
> Also, in my very, very, very first draft of the pregnancy blog posts I pre-wrote, Melody’s name actually was Audrey. Then it was Grace. Then it was finally Melody. I had to set up a poll on Twitter to decide between the final two.
> 
> Also also, I should have y'all place bets on things more often. The last chapter got a crap load of comments. It was awesome. KEEP IT COMING, I BEG YOU!!! Feel free to drop some name suggestions if you'd like. I already have a name picked out for the baby, but Yuri and JJ will have plenty of time to discuss others! Plus you know Deda and Yakov and Viktor are going to make suggestions of their own. (Or, if you haven't placed a bet on girl/boy/alpha/omega yet, you can do that too! I'm keeping a tally.)


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